


falling feels like flying

by dwoht



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: College AU, F/F, shelby is emotionally evolved in this, tagging now for fluff and then a slow decline into angst, very on brand for me what can i say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:03:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwoht/pseuds/dwoht
Summary: And then Toni has an idea. It’s a terrible idea. It’s a horrible, no-good, potentially life-ruining, mess of a plan. It’s not even a plan, it’s just an impulsive thought. So, of course, she says it immediately.“I could be your girlfriend,” she says. Shelby stares at her, like she’s so shocked she forgets that she’s freaking out.or,Shelby runs a YouTube channel, which Toni has been hate watching for years. On mere coincidence, they’re assigned to be college roommates, and of course, end up fake-dating.
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 673
Kudos: 1666





	1. one

Of all the things to come to mind upon seeing her roommate for the first time, Toni never in her wildest dreams imagined it would be, “Oh, my God. It’s you.”

She also didn’t think she’d say it out loud.

Her roommate turns, startlingly bright smile plastered on like a sticker. “Oh, hey there!” She immediately starts gesturing around, saying, “I got here early, I guess I’m just that kind of person, but I didn’t set anything up yet in case you wanted one bed over the other. I mean, I know we’ve been emailing, but you haven’t really been that great at replying, so…” She trails off, and just peers over, examining Toni with an almost puzzled expression.

Toni remembers to talk, and clears her throat. “Uh, no. Either is fine. I’m Toni.”

“Ah, Shelby,” she says, sticking a hand out.

It’s almost painfully awkward as Toni just stares at it, because she already _knows_ that, and Shelby slowly retracts her extended arm with a flick upwards of her eyebrows.

“It’s you,” Toni says again, and this time Shelby actually hears her. Her eyes furrow immediately, and Toni all but clamps a hand over her mouth. “You, my roommate. That’s what I meant. Obviously.”

“Alright,” Shelby says, shrugging. Her ponytail is annoyingly perky when she spins around, facing the beds. “Well then, any preference?”

“Um, no,” Toni says.

“So, I can have that one?” Shelby says, bouncing lightly on her toes as she points.

Toni almost just nods, but in the back of her mind she can hear Martha yelling at her to make an effort, so she says, “That’s fine.”

As she occupies herself with unpacking, she realizes three things.

First, her roommate is Shelby Goodkind. As in, the girl Toni has been hate watching on YouTube for almost three years. After stumbling upon her by total accident while she was avoiding an English essay, Toni has seen her grow from twenty-thousand subscribers to two million.

Second, Shelby is unfairly just as pretty in real life, if not more. As irritating as she is, and as much as Toni stews angrily over her videos every Wednesday, she has to admit that the only reason she still watches is probably because Shelby is easy on the eyes. To make up for her personality, of course.

Third, Shelby’s Southern accent is much less pronounced in real life. Toni wonders if she fakes it for the channel, or is toning it down and faking _that_ now that it sticks out like a sore thumb here in California.

If she were a braver human, she would ask. Alas, Toni sticks to her side of the room, and finishes unpacking her painfully low amount of belongings in record time.

The thing is, Toni really _did_ want to be friends with her roommate. For one reason, it’s always easier at a new school when you know somebody, and for another, she’d hate to literally live with someone she can’t stand.

But, whether she’s tired from the last leg of the drive, or she’s hungry to the verge of irritability, or she’s just straight up in a bad mood, Toni can tell she’s soured the whole first interaction, and that kind of sets the mood for… the rest of it.

The fourth thing Toni learns about Shelby is that not only is her sunny camera personality blindingly annoying in real life, but _also_ that she is a shockingly quick on her feet person to argue with. She matches insults to insults with no hesitations, and spars at every comeback easily.

It’s, like, addictively infuriating.

Toni is almost late to her first basketball practice, because of course she is, and is halfway through stuffing everything haphazardly into her backpack when Shelby returns from class. The blonde eyes her wordlessly, and then seems to spy the school logo in the corner of her practice jersey.

“ _You’re_ on the basketball team?” she asks.

Toni looks up, halfway to offended. “Is that a problem?”

“Sorry,” Shelby says, not sounding it at all. She arches an eyebrow to indicate her change in emphasis. “I meant, you’re on the _basketball_ team?”

“What’s it to you?” Toni snaps, shoving her feet into some slides and stringing her shoes around her neck.

“Aren’t you, like, five foot two?” Shelby says. And then, after honest-to-God looking her up and down, she adds, “At most.”

“I’m five foot three, actually,” Toni lies, because she is so _not_ , no matter how much she begs the doctor every time they measure her. “And I guess I’m just so good my height doesn’t matter.”

“Hm,” Shelby says, sounding wholly unimpressed. “I suppose we’ll see.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Toni says, pausing at the door.

“I’ll just have to come to your games, then, won’t I?” Shelby says, tilting her head to one side. “School spirit. Go Bruins!” Toni flips her off. She shrugs. “Have fun at practice, Short-Stack.”

Toni sends her a withering glare that might unhinge someone less annoyingly composed as Shelby. “Don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer?” Shelby asks, cocking her head slightly. “Short-Stop? Short-Cake?”

“Why does it have to have short in it?” Toni complains.

And thus begins the worst part of living with Shelby, which comes in the form of her apparent newfound need to find the right nickname for Toni.

Sometimes, she’ll offer one out, like ‘Munchkin’ or ‘Stumpy’ and wait for Toni’s rating, other times she’s not even a second off of saying names like ‘Pixie’ or ‘Cupcake’ before she’s already shaking her head, as if mentally ticking them off her list.

And every Wednesday, without fail, Shelby uploads another YouTube video. Toni isn’t sure how she’s doing it, considering she’s never _seen_ a single piece of camera equipment in their room. Not even something as simple a battery charger.

Scrolling back through the channel, Toni realizes Shelby doesn’t really have a ‘thing’ she does. Sometimes she posts vlogs, other times reviews for products, lots of ‘Get Ready With Me’ or Q&A’s. It would appear her two million subscribers don’t care what she does, they just want to see her do it. Rather, they want to see her camera persona.

The frustrating thing is Toni isn’t sure they’re different people. Every insult, retort, and comeback is thrown with a smile on front of it, and she’s seen Shelby around campus greeting everyone with a genuine wave. According to Martha, who shares an English class with her, Shelby even personally thanks the professor after every single lecture.

Today’s video is a cover of the song ‘Riptide’ by Vance Joy.

Toni clicks on it.

“ _Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel, —_ “

“— or if you’re new here, welcome to our family!” Toni mocks alongside her.

_“Today, I thought I’d try something new. I’ve mentioned before that I love to sing, but I haven’t posted anything yet. I’ve been really loving this song lately, though, so I thought I’d do a little cover of it! Okay, let’s get to it!_ ”

She whips out a guitar then, and Toni looks around immediately because it’s a college dorm room, where the fuck is Shelby hiding a _guitar_.

Toni flips over onto her stomach, propping her phone up on her pillow, and resting her chin in her folded arms. She’s not really sure what exactly she’s expecting, but it’s certainly not for Shelby to start playing a rather complicated mixture of finger-picking and strumming.

And then she starts singing, and Toni will take this to the grave, but her jaw actually drops. Shelby isn’t just one of those hobby singers that can carry a tune decently, she’s actually _good_.

She also doesn’t miss the way Shelby smirks a little as her mouth rolls over the words ‘I was scared of pretty girls,’ but Toni doesn’t have time to unpack what _that_ means, so she just listens with rapt attention as Shelby does a delicately smooth run, and then fades off into a soft vibrato.

There’s no logical reason why Shelby being a good singer should make her want to roll her eyes, but it does. Her index finger is scrubbing along the video time bar so she can listen to the chorus again when the door opens.

In her panic to act natural, she flips herself over on her bed, which sends her phone flying off onto the floor. Shelby just calmly observes how Toni dives for it like she’s saving a falling baby, and snatches it up before Shelby can see what’s on the screen.

“Hey, Pee-Wee,” Shelby says, eyeing with insufferable amusement at Toni now lying back on her bed with her phone clutched to her chest. She tilts her head to one side. “That’s not bad, actually.”

“Uh-uh,” Toni manages to get out, still recovering from her heart attack. “No to Pee-Wee.”

Shelby examines Toni’s side of the room, and then says, “Could you, like, tidy up a little bit?”

Toni looks around. “Um, no. Why?”

“‘Cause?” Shelby tries. “It’s stressing me out.”

“Stay stressed,” Toni says, looking back at her phone.

Shelby rolls her eyes. “I keep _my_ side clean.”

“I never asked you to do that,” Toni says. She glances around, and then says, “Besides, it _is_ clean.”

“It is _not_ ,” Shelby scoffs.

“I never said it wasn’t _messy_ ,” Toni says, holding a finger up “but it’s _clean_.”

“Only weak arguments rely on pedantic quibbles,” Shelby tells her.

“I can’t believe you just said, ‘quibble,’” Toni laughs.

With an exasperated sigh, Shelby takes another look around, as if scouring the piles of stuff for something, and folds her arms. “Do you ever study? It’s been, like, two weeks, and I don’t think I’ve even seen you hold a pencil.”

“I prefer pens,” Toni says. She takes pity on her, though, and adds, “I do study, by the way.” She shrugs. “It’s just not my biggest priority.”

“We’re at _college_ ,” Shelby deadpans. Toni gives her a look and a little wiggle of her shoulders as if to say, _So?_ She just rolls her eyes, starts unpacking her backpack, and says, “I just don’t like people who waste their opportunities.”

“Excuse me?” Toni says, sitting up at that. “You don’t know _anything_ about me.”

“I know you attend one of the most renowned schools in California, and arguably one of the top public colleges in the entire country,” Shelby says. For the first time, there’s no playful amusement or sunny disposition behind her words. “And I know that you throw that away to prioritize… whatever it is you deem more important than actually doing what you came here to do, which is _learn_.”

“Actually, I came here to play basketball,” Toni says, narrowing her eyes. “Because that’s where my future is.”

“Oh, well then,” Shelby says, a humorless laugh bubbling up. She slams a notebook down on her desk. “God, you athletes are so full of it.”

“You act like I’m some privileged white boy,” Toni says, wondering how their at least decently-civil banter turned into whatever the fuck _this_ is.

“You said it, not me,” Shelby says, arching an eyebrow. “I just think you don’t recognize the luck that you’ve had.”

“Luck?” Toni snorts, “Do you want to hear about my tragic past, or…?”

“I don’t expect you to know this, but luck and privilege isn’t a net measurement,” Shelby answers coolly. “You can have had setbacks and tragedies while still being privileged and lucky in other ways.”

“Oh, tell _me_ about my _own_ luck, please,” Toni says, rolling her eyes.

“The fact that you don’t even recognize it says enough,” Shelby says scathingly. She looks like she might drop it, but then turns away from her desk with a huff. “Fact: most athletes are just lucky. Lucky to have had the training they did, lucky to be scouted, lucky to be genetically predisposed to certain traits.”

“I wasn’t _lucky_ ,” Toni says, jutting a finger at Shelby and then at her own chest, “I _worked_ hard.”

“Two things can be true at the same time,” Shelby retorts. She throws her hands up. “This discussion is stupid. I was just telling you that not everyone is lucky enough to have their forty-two thousand dollar tuition paid off just for throwing a ball around, so some of us have to actually go to class and study.”

“Oh, like your parents don’t pay for yours,” Toni scoffs, because Shelby’s clothes and belongings scream nothing but rich white girl.

“They don’t, actually,” Shelby says, her voice quieting. She blinks. “I just can’t waste what I have, okay?”

“Alright, _geez_ ,” Toni says, wondering why she suddenly feels like such a dick.

For all their incessant bickering at each other, they’ve never had an argument like that before. Never anything that _real_. Toni wonders whether she’s supposed to apologize or something, but when she wakes up, Shelby is already gone, and when she returns, she acts like nothing has changed.

“Morning, Peanut,” she tosses out airily, and then with a quick swap of her books, she’s breezing out of the room again.

Naturally, instead of just asking Shelby, Toni goes to Martha.

“What do you know about her?” Toni asks, as casually as she can.

It doesn’t work, apparently, because Martha arches an eyebrow at her over her salad. “Shelby?” Toni nods. She shrugs. “I don’t know. Not much, I guess. We have a class together, but that’s it.”

“Yeah, but you sit next to her every day,” Toni says.

“How do _you_ know that?” Martha laughs.

“Um, you mentioned it once,” Toni says, fumbling with her fork. “Whatever. I was just wondering.”

“She’s nice,” Martha says. She jabs her fork in Toni’s direction. “I know you don’t like her, but you could have a worse roommate, you know.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Toni says, rolling her eyes. “She’s… annoying.”

The chuckle that ensues turns into a cough over a bite of lettuce. “And you’re not?” Martha says.

Toni’s jaw drops. “Thanks, best friend.”

Martha shrugs. “Just being honest. I don’t know what your issue with her is.”

“She thinks I’m privileged,” Toni says.

“She _said_ that?” Martha says, like she finds it hard to believe.

Toni thinks on this. “She said she thinks I don’t recognize that I’m lucky for being on a sports scholarship, and that I’m wasting this educational opportunity others don’t have.” Martha doesn’t say anything, just takes another bite of salad. Toni narrows her eyes. “Oh, my God. You agree with her.”

“I don’t _not_ agree,” Martha says. Toni blinks. “What? Tell me none of those things aren’t true.”

“Well, I — I — who’s _she_ to tell me that?” Toni sputters out. “She’s, like, the poster child for rich, Southern, white girl.”

“You don’t actually know that,” Martha says, raising her eyebrows. “You’re assuming these things about someone you met almost three _weeks_ ago.”

“Actually, I’ve kind of known her for years,” Toni says, picking at a fingernail.

“I’m sorry, what?” Martha says.

“It’s not a big deal,” Toni huffs, slumping in her chair. “I, uh, found her YouTube channel on accident when I was, like, fifteen.”

“And you’ve been watching it ever since?” Martha laughs. Toni nods. “How often?”

She clicks her tongue, then purses her lips. “Well, she uploads every Wednesday.”

“Oh, my God,” Martha mumbles into her salad. 

“Marty, c’mon,” Toni whines. “I came here for dirt, not to be made fun of.”

“There’s no _dirt_ ,” Martha says, rolling her eyes. “Shelby could literally be the nicest person I’ve ever met. Maybe you two should try and be friends.”

“Why?” Toni says dumbly.

“Uh, ‘cause you have to live together for at least another year?” Martha says.

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, Toni realizes, becoming friends with your roommate is what you’re _supposed_ to do.

The problem is, every time she decides to start being nice to Shelby, she either forgets, loses her nerve, or Shelby says something so annoying it can’t possibly be responded to with anything less than a proper insult.

“So, are you, like, Christian?” Toni asks one night.

Shelby stills, hand coming up to the golden cross necklace that hangs around her neck at all times. She blinks into space for a few seconds, then tosses Toni a short smile, says, “This isn’t mine, Munchkin,” and looks back at her book.

And that’s the end of that conversation.

If there’s one bad habit Toni has, the main would be her knack for ripping her shirt off before looking to see who’s in her room. In her defense, it’s _her_ room, but as she’s tugging her practice jersey up and over her face, she hears a throat clear.

The shirt comes off. She studies Shelby’s bed, which currently inhabits someone who is definitely _not_ Shelby. Toni coughs. “Um, hi.”

“Hey,” the girl says. She’s sitting up against the wall with her legs hanging off the side, and gives them a little swing. “What’s up?”

Toni shrugs. “Oh, well, you know.” They stare at each other. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude —“

“— since when?” comes Shelby’s voice as she enters their dorm.

“— but who are you?” Toni finishes.

“This is Dot,” Shelby says. “Dot, this is Grumpy.” Toni just looks at her. Shelby shrugs. “You know, like the dwarf?”

“Hey, Grumpy,” Dot says.

“Uh, it’s Toni,” Toni says. Her eyes flit around the room, wondering whether she’s not supposed to be here or something.

“Worry not, we were just leaving,” Shelby tells her. True to her word, she grabs her backpack, the door handle, and waves. “See you, Half-Pint!”

“Bye, Half-Pint,” Dot echoes with a smile and a salute.

“It’s Toni!” she calls after them.

Shelby’s next YouTube video is a vlog, which Toni recognizes as being filmed the Friday the week before, when she was ambushed by her and her friend in their dorm. The vlog includes that friend, Dot, as well as someone called Fatin, who, according to the video, goes to USC.

“Of course _you_ would hang out with the enemy,” Toni says, without thinking, because when does she ever do that?

Slowly, like she’s witnessing her own execution, Shelby turns her desk chair, and tilts her head to one side. Confusion is written all over her face when she says, “Huh?” and Toni is praying she stays that way.

“Never mind. Nothing,” she says quickly. “Anyway, how was your day?”

“How was my…” Shelby trails off, apparently still trying to process Toni’s first comment.

“Don’t think too hard,” Toni says, but it’s too late. Dread settles in her chest in tandem with the grin that is spreading over Shelby’s face. 

“Cupcake,” she says slowly, and stares Toni right in the eyes. “Do you watch my YouTube videos?”

Cheeks flaming, Toni says, “Um, _no_.” And then, for good measure, “What’s a YouTube?”

Shelby actually full on laughs, something Toni doesn’t think she’s ever heard her do in real life before, and is practically bouncing in her chair. “Oh, my God.” Sobering, she sits up, and points at Toni like she’s in an infomercial. “Have you made sure to click the subscribe button, and hit that notification bell so you never miss an upload?”

“Absolutely not,” Toni says. She glares at her. “It was just that one. My friend showed it to me.”

“Alright, then,” Shelby says, wiggling her eyebrows like she _so_ doesn’t believe her. “Well, thanks for the view, Squirt. I hope you at least clicked the like button.”

The next few weeks continue much like that.

Are they friends? That’s a stretch.

They do nothing but argue and bicker back and forth, but they haven’t accidentally gone down the route of attacking each other over real things again, and at least there’s a smile on Shelby’s face when they’re insulting each other.

Except today, apparently.

Toni is lounging on her bed after her post-practice shower when Shelby comes back to the room. Only, this time, she doesn’t greet Toni, she just has her eyes downcast, dumps her backpack on her desk, and throws herself facedown down on her bed.

“Hey?” Toni tries.

Shelby peeks over at her. “Hi, Toni.”

For all the bitching Toni’s done, it’s almost painful to hear her call her by her actual name. “What, no nickname today?”

“No,” Shelby says. She flops onto her back, feet tucked up with her knees in the air, and glances over again. “Due to recent events, I will be passing away.”

“Okay,” Toni says. Silence. “Any particular reason why?”

“Uh, well, funny you should ask, actually,” Shelby says. She fumbles through, “I — uh, well, my —“ and then groans, throwing her hands over her face. “Why am I even talking about this with you?”

It’s a fair question.

“Because you have no one else?” Toni offers.

Shelby glares at her. “That isn’t helping.” Her gaze softens, back into the troubled furrow of her eyebrows, and her foot absentmindedly starts bouncing in time to her teeth worrying at her lower lip. “My parents are coming to visit.”

“Oh,” Toni says. “Cool?” Shelby gives her a look. “Not cool?” Shelby nods. “Oh. Sorry.”

“They, uh, they think I have a girlfriend,” Shelby says, flushing slightly.

“Why?” Toni asks.

Shelby looks at her like she’s an idiot. “Because I told them I did.”

“Oh.” Toni blinks, wondering why her brain is working overtime trying to keep up, and she still has no idea what’s going on. “But you don’t?”

“No,” Shelby says. “You don’t think after almost two months of living together, you’d know?”

“It’s hard for me to believe _anyone_ would want to date you,” Toni shrugs, “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

The fact that Shelby doesn’t even bother replying to that besides one last scathing glare is proof enough that she is _really_ spun up about this whole thing. “I just need them to feel like my life is perfect.”

“Isn’t it?” Toni says, and when Shelby turns, again, to glare at her for what feels like the tenth time in two minutes, she holds her hands up. “I’m serious!”

“Well, my life is _fine_ ,” Shelby huffs. “I guess I meant perfect _and_ with a girlfriend.”

“Why’s the girlfriend part so important?” Toni wonders aloud.

“Just is,” Shelby says. She turns back to the ceiling, and starts mumbling something along the lines of, _It was worth it_ , and _it’s real_ , and _happier_.

And then Toni has an idea.

It’s a terrible idea. It’s a horrible, no-good, potentially life-ruining, mess of a plan. It’s not even a plan, it’s just an impulsive thought. So, of course, she says it immediately.

“I could be your girlfriend,” she says. Shelby stares at her, like she’s so shocked she forgets that she’s freaking out. Toni backtracks quickly. “I mean, I know you act like you don’t like me —“

“I _don’t_ like you,” Shelby interjects.

Toni rolls her eyes. “— _but_ , we could _pretend_.”

Shelby sets her phone down on her nightstand, and faces her full on. “Have you forgotten you can’t stand me?” she laughs.

Toni shrugs, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “Sorry I assumed a college student would know what the word ‘pretend’ means.”

“Fuck you,” Shelby says, but Toni can tell there’s a smile peeking out. She folds her arms, and arches her eyebrow in that way she does. “What’s in it for you?”

“I, uh…” Toni sighs. “My sister’s mom is getting on my case about dating.” She starts to roll her eyes, but they stop halfway, and she stares at the ceiling so she doesn’t have to make eye contact. “I had a bad breakup, and she thinks I’m still hung up on it.”

“Why was it bad?” Shelby asks. The quirk of her lips tells Toni she’ll decide whether to bully her or offer moral support depending on the answer.

“Doesn’t matter,” Toni says quickly. She gestures vaguely, pulling her gaze back down. “Point is, it’s a win-win for both of us.”

“Wait. Your sister’s mom?” Shelby repeats slowly, tongue practically massaging every word.

Toni reaches up, snapping her fingers in her direction. “Can you focus?” she says.

“I _am_ ,” Shelby says. “You are _so_ annoying.”

“What an eloquent and original insult,” Toni says, eyebrows raised.

“It’s called matching the demographic, seeing as you’re neither of those things,” Shelby retorts.

There’s a beat of silence, and they both just stare at each other, as if wondering what the fuck they did to get themselves in this conversation in the first place. Toni hopes they don’t think about it for too long, because the answer is that it’s her fault, and that it was her idea.

Toni snuggles her hands up into her armpits as she tucks her arms into each other. “So?”

“Okay,” Shelby says. She pauses. “Yeah, okay. Alright, let’s do it.” She shrugs. “We’re already roommates. How hard can it be?”

“You mean besides the fact that you’re single-handedly the most irritating person I’ve ever met?” Toni snorts. And then, much to her horror, the words, “At least you’re pretty” leave her mouth.

Toni has never been religious. She’s never tried talking to God. She’s never even _been_ to a church. But right now, she prays extra hard for an instant, and swift death, even if that means she goes to Hell, because Shelby is downright grinning at her.

“Oh?” she wiggles her eyebrows. Toni sulks. Shelby softens, grin fading into a little smile, and adds, “In case you were wondering, I think you’re pretty too.”

“I wasn’t,” Toni shoots back, but the malice is weak because they both know she totally was.

With that annoying pointing thing she does with her hands, Shelby grabs her backpack with one, and gestures at Toni with the other. “Gotta get to class, but we’ll talk more about this.”

“Why?” Toni asks dumbly.

“You’re meeting my family,” Shelby says, freezing slightly. She shakes it off, grin resurfacing. “See ya, girlfriend.”

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ily thank you for reading!! i appreciate your comments, as always!!
> 
> quinnfebrey on tumblr. come chat!


	2. two

“You did what?” Martha says.

Toni squirms in her seat. “I, uh, offered to be —“

“No, I heard you,” Martha says, holding up a finger, “my brain is just wondering why you thought that would be a good idea.”

She lets out a huff, as if that will detract from the flush rising to her cheeks. “You told me to be her friend!” Toni protests.

“So you took that to mean you should _pretend_ to be her _girlfriend_?” she demands.

Martha stares at her like she’s an absolute idiot. It’s a look Toni has only received a few times throughout the near decade long entirety of their friendship, and she has to admit, now is a pretty appropriate time for it.

“It could be worse,” Toni mumbles.

“You know,” Martha says, raising her eyebrows, “you _did_ say you’ve been watching her YouTube channel loyally for, like, three years.”

“Out of hate,” Toni specifies, sitting up. “It’s called hate-watching.”

“No, hate-watching is something you do, like, once, because presumably, you hate them,” Martha says. There’s a shit-eating grin on her face when she says, “You’ve been thinking about Shelby at least once a week for three years.”

“What’s your point?” Toni sighs, wondering why she even asked, because she does _not_ want to know.

Sure enough, Martha gives maybe the worst possible answer. “I think,” she starts, pausing for dramatic effect. “I think you like her.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You know. _Like_ like her.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not twelve,” Toni scoffs. “Second of all, I know you think you know my type or whatever, but you don’t.”

Martha takes a pointed bite of noodles, and then says, “Um, I’ve called you out on crushes since we were eleven.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been wrong about most of them,” Toni says, waving her fork around.

“Most,” Martha says. She wiggles her eyebrows again. “Not all.”

Maybe it’s her desperate need to prove Martha wrong, or maybe it’s the stupid little voice in her brain telling her Martha _isn’t_ wrong, but when she returns to her dorm room, it is with entirely the wrong attitude.

Shelby greets her, as always, at her desk with a cup of tea, and a smile. “Hey, Stitch.”

“What do you want?” Toni growls.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Shelby mumbles.

“Our beds are pushed against the wall,” Toni says, gesturing roughly. “There’s only one side.”

“Well, that would explain your every day behavior, then,” Shelby shrugs. Instead of resuming her work like she usually does, Shelby stays turned halfway in her chair, and just watches as Toni starts packing her basketball bag. She must get sick of watching Toni hunt for her pre-wrap, because eventually she says, “Hey, so I was wondering if we could sit down and talk?”

Toni blinks. “About what?”

“Um, you know,” Shelby says. Her voice is more hesitant than Toni has ever heard it, and she’s fiddling with the cross around her neck when she continues, “The fake-dating thing. For meeting my parents.”

“Oh, right,” Toni says. She nods. “Uh, okay.”

“It doesn’t have to be now,” Shelby says quickly, “just soon, I guess. As long as you’re still interested.” She pauses. “You _are_ still interested, right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Toni says, and is almost embarrassed to find her tone softening all the way down to a level she’s pretty sure she reserves only for Martha. “When are they coming?”

“Next Friday,” Shelby says, ticking days off on her calendar. “So, eight days.” She chews on her lower lip for a second, then looks back up. “Would you be free sometime this week?

“Yeah, I can make that work,” Toni says. She turns away, but after another twenty seconds of hunting for her pre-wrap, she feels Shelby’s eyes still on her. She turns. “Oh, like, decide now?”

“You’re going to make fun of me for this, but I really like to have things planned,” Shelby says. She’s already rolling her eyes, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s at herself or Toni.

“I would make fun of you, but you seem, uh, pretty stressed right now,” Toni says. Shelby’s looking at her like she wants to say, _Since when did that stop you?_ so she adds, “And that’s not a good look. So, let’s preserve your mental state.” She looks around for a calendar of her own, but comes up short. “I’m kind of the opposite, is the problem.”

“You don’t plan things?” Shelby asks.

“I don’t even _have_ a planner,” Toni says, shrugging.

Shelby stares at her, looking absolutely scandalized. “How do you know when to do things?”

“Either Martha tells me, I get a text to the team group chat, or the Lord above puts a panicky feeling in my stomach until I remember what I’m late for,” Toni says, ticking the options off on her fingers.

Toni almost wishes she was kidding, because the look on Shelby’s face is pretty priceless, but unfortunately it’s entirely true. Unless she’s actively doing something or about to start, she has no idea what’s on her agenda for any given day, much less that week.

“How about tonight?” Toni suggests. “I’m always back here by nine.” Shelby hesitates. “What, do you have _plans_?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Shelby scoffs. Then, her face relaxes into a smile that says she’s about to say something totally infuriating. “Just watch my YouTube video this week, and you’ll find out.”

“Alright, tonight or not?” Toni sighs.

“Yeah, tonight’s good,” Shelby says. She winks. “It’s a date, Pipsqueak.”

As she’s walking back to the dorm that evening, Toni realizes she has no idea what to expect because she’s never actually fake-dated anyone before. When she does finally arrive, coffee in hand, a peek into the room tells her Shelby has done a total swap from that morning, and is back to her usual obnoxiously confident self.

“Evening,” Toni says, shrugging her back pack onto her side of the room. Shelby just eyes her with no attempt to hide her disapproval as Toni dumps her backpack on the floor. “You certainly are… organized.”

It’s an understatement. Shelby has laid out literal flash cards, and has five different colored pens _and_ five different colored highlighters next to her notebook.

“Study for this like it’s the biggest test of your life,” Shelby tells her. She pauses. “Or, actually, I don’t trust that. Study like _me_.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Toni whines. She flops onto her bed, resisting the urge to bury her face into her pillow.

“I would say, ‘Have you ever met my parents?’” Shelby starts, “but the problem is that you haven’t. This needs to be absolutely airtight.” She clicks a pen. “So, how did we meet?”

“I don’t think we need a story,” Toni mumbles.

“We don’t even _like_ each other,” Shelby reminds her. “So, yeah, I think we at least need to get our facts straight.”

Sighing, Toni takes pity on her, and pulls herself into something akin to sitting in an upright position. “Let’s just use the truth, and embellish it. We’re roommates, and we… fell in love.”

“Love?” Shelby says. Her voice is colored with pointed disbelief. “It’s been two months.”

“Well, then you come up with the backstory,” Toni says, cheeks flaming.

“We met as roommates, and after a few weeks of pining, you asked me out, and the rest is history,” Shelby shrugs.

“No,” Toni says, shaking her head. “Has to be the other way around. _You_ asked _me_. I’d never ask someone like you out.”

“I know, I know,” Shelby says, sighing, “I’m just that insufferable.”

“No,” Toni repeats. And, God, what possesses her to admit this she’ll never know, because it’s not even _real_ , but she says, “I meant you're, like, way out of my league.”

The grin that spreads over Shelby’s face is as annoying as ever. “Aw, Flitwick, who knew you were such a flirt?” she says.

“Flitwick?” Toni scoffs. “Like, that teacher from Harry Potter?”

“Uh, yeah,” Shelby says, “he’s super short.”

“Only nerds know that,” Toni says.

Shelby gives her a look. “ _You_ knew that.”

“Whatever,” Toni mumbles, shoving her pillow over her face. She scoots it up to free her mouth, and says, “The backstory is fine. Next?”

“Make sure to mention as often as possible that we’re roommates,” Shelby says.

“Why?” Toni asks, peeking at her through a gap between the pillow and her cheek.

“It’ll totally freak them out,” Shelby says. She pauses. “They’re conservative.”

“The raging Texas accent you have didn't clue me in to that at _all_ ,” Toni says, words dripping with sarcasm.

It’s Shelby’s turn to roll her eyes and say, “Whatever.” She scribbles something down in the margins, no doubt with perfect handwriting. “Tell me about your family.”

“What? No,” Toni says immediately. “That’s, like, one year anniversary shit.”

“What if it comes up?” Shelby says, rubbing at her left temple.

Toni shrugs. “Make sure it doesn’t?”

“I think you have trust issues, but okay,” Shelby says. She writes something else down, then tosses a bundle of flashcards at Toni’s face. “There’s everything you need to know about mine.”

Toni flips through them quickly. There’s four, all in order, with cards for _Dave (dad)_ , _Jill (mom)_ , _Spencer (little brother)_ , _Melody (little sister)_.

On the back of the _Dave_ card reads, _Worst person you’ll ever meet, avoid at all costs._ The next one, _Jill_ , says, _Nice, but in a “I’d still throw you under the bus” kind of way. Be friendly, but assume the worst._ On the other sides of the final two is written, _Cool kids, won’t be there, have done no wrong._

“How am I supposed to avoid your dad at all costs?” Toni wonders aloud. “Aren’t we doing this because I’m _meeting_ him?”

“The card is for the best case scenario,” Shelby says. She quirks her lips. “This is worst case.”

“Your siblings aren’t coming?” Toni asks, shuffling the cards as best she can, considering there’s four of them.

Shelby shakes her head. “No, they have school, so my parents are probably getting a babysitter or something.” She fiddles with the pen in her hand, and then says, “I keep telling those two to study really hard. They don’t… _get_ it yet, but studying is their ticket out.”

“Out of what?” Toni asks. “Or, where?”

Shelby shrugs. “Everything.” She looks down, like she’s done talking, but the way her face keeps flexing and shifting tells Toni she wants to say something else.

“You can, uh, tell me whatever I need to know,” she says, hating how awkward it is to actually be nice to her for once.

The little smile Shelby gives her is worth it, though. “It’s just this one thing.” She takes a deep breath. “If they talk about someone named Becca, just don’t acknowledge it.”

“Why?” Toni asks.

“They're going to try and make you think I’m this horrible person,” Shelby says, and though she scoffs, it’s half-hearted at best.

“Why?” Toni repeats.

There’s a heavy pause, and the air is thick when Shelby blinks a couple times, as if hyping herself up. Then, she says, “Because I am.”

“I know I make fun of you for… well, everything,” Toni says, “but I don’t think you have it in you to be a horrible person.” No response. “What, is she, like, an ex or something?”

“Or something,” Shelby agrees. Her hand comes up to her necklace again, and she rolls it between her thumb and index finger a few times. “This is her necklace.” She hesitates, then says, “Rather, it _was_.”

“Oh,” Toni says. Then, “My mom is dead.” Shelby just stares at her. She cringes. “So, I feel like I should clarify, for the record, that that was my attempt at being empathetic. I wasn’t just trying to make it about me.”

“I got that, yeah,” Shelby says, and when she yawns, Toni wonders if her Southern drawl comes out more when she’s tired. She takes a deep breath. “Thank you. And also, that’s really sad.”

“Maybe you’ll get the full story on our one-year-anniversary,” Toni shrugs.

“You wish,” Shelby scoffs, smile slowly returning back to her eyes. “Let’s wait and see if we even hit six months, alright?”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable entering a relationship with someone who doesn’t think we’ll make it to a year,” Toni says, holding up a finger. “If _I_ have trust issues, then _you_ definitely have commitment issues.”

It should be weird how easily they go from bonding over dead people in their lives to insulting each other again, but it feels natural, and nothing really changes between them in the days between that evening and Meet the Parents Day.

“Have you seen my laptop charger?” Toni asks, bursting into the room.

“Hello to you, too,” Shelby says, turning slowly. She sighs when Toni throws her backpack somewhere onto the floor on her side of the room. “I’m having a great day, thank you _so_ much for asking. Now that we’ve greeted each other like normal people, what is it that you need?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Toni mumbles, “good to see you.” She throws her hands up. “My fucking laptop charger.”

“Ratatouille, if you want to know where your things are, there’s this magical solution called putting them back in the same place every time,” Shelby says.

“Ratatouille?” She tilts her head to one side. “Isn’t that, like, a food thing?”

“No, it’s the rat from that movie,” Shelby says, tapping her pen on her chin.

“Actually, his name is Remy,” Toni says. Shelby doesn’t say anything, so Toni elaborates impatiently, “Ratatouille is the dish he cooks, but that’s not his name.”

“Okay,” Shelby says, a giggle bubbling up, “and how many times have you seen this movie?”

“My sister really likes it, sue me,” Toni growls. Shelby just watches her, one eyebrow raised. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Why would I do that?” Shelby asks. It’s a fair question, so much so that Toni really has nothing else to say. Shelby sighs. “I don’t know where yours is, because your side of the room is a disaster, but you can borrow mine.”

“Really?” Toni can practically feel her eyes lighting up. She reaches out.

Shelby whips it away. “But if you lose it, you’re buying me a new one. And dinner.”

“Why dinner?” Toni says, snatching it from her hand.

“For emotional damages,” Shelby says, like it should be obvious.

“If you wanted to go out with me, all you had to do was ask,” Toni says. Shelby is already rolling her eyes, so she adds, “But if the threat of losing this thing is having dinner with you, I’ll be sure to return the charger promptly.”

“You’ve never done anything promptly,” Shelby tells her.

Toni puts on a bashful smile. “Well, then you’ll be pleased to know you’ll be my first.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Shelby mutters, but there’s a wry smile on her lips when she turns away. “Study hard, Thumbelina.”

So, yeah, even with the whole fake-dating arrangement, not much is different. Although, sometimes Toni starts to think their bickering and bantering has shifted to being _with_ each other rather than _at_ each other. 

“So, they get in around noon,” Shelby says. Rather, her head says. The rest of her, hands and all, are tucked into her blankets up to her neck like a burrito.

Only Toni’s bedside lamp is on, and in the shadows of the dark dorm room, Shelby looks like a little cocoon of blankets. There’s a little empty space where her body is curled in towards, and it looks like it would be an unbelievably cozy place to take a nap.

Not that Toni notices, of course.

“Are they coming to our room?” Toni asks. She grins. “Should I, like, leave my strap-on in your bed or something just to fuck with them?”

“You have a — no, I don’t want to know,” Shelby decides. She coughs, then says again,“No, thankfully I got them to agree to just be at their hotel. We’ll be meeting them for dinner.”

“No problem,” Toni says, shrugging. She offers a quick thumbs up. “All good?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Shelby says, throwing a quick smile that looks like it’s absolutely _not_ all good.

She doesn’t say anything else, though, so Toni reaches over to flick off her lamp. She tries to close her eyes and go to sleep, you know, like you’re supposed to, but after a few minutes, she hears Shelby rustle around. And then again. And then again.

And it isn’t as though Toni pays any particular attention to this, but she _does_ know how Shelby sounds when she’s asleep, and her breathing at the current moment is absolutely not that. Playing therapist for her roommate she doesn’t even like at one in the morning doesn’t exactly sound like a good time, but Shelby’s thoughts are so loud she knows she won’t be able to actually fall asleep.

“Shelby?” she says tentatively. Shelby doesn’t respond, but makes a little noise of acknowledgement. “You good?”

“Uh-huh,” comes her reply. It couldn’t be less convincing.

“Really?” Toni says. She nibbles at her lower lip, then says. “‘Cause you’re kind of super awake.”

“How do you know that?” Shelby asks. There’s a little shuffling, and then her voice comes out more clearly when she says, “That’s creepy.”

Toni rolls her eyes, though she knows Shelby can’t see her. “Don’t make it weird. Knowing people’s sleeping breathing is just, like, a thing I do. Gotta make sure you’re still alive over there, ya know?”

A pause.

“That’s kind of a downer,” Shelby says.

“Well, anyway, it’s pretty obvious you’re not even close to falling asleep, and it’s messing with my own,” Toni says. She rolls her eyes again, this time at herself, and starts to wonder whether she should be worried about the fact that rolling her eyes seems to be her default answer for everything. “So, what’s up?”

There’s no real reason why Shelby should tell her. No more reason than there is for Toni to ask, anyway. But whether it’s because they’ve been toeing the line of actually being nice to each other for the past few days, or whether it’s safer under the blanket of nighttime, Shelby speaks.

“I really don’t want to see my parents,” she admits evenly. The way she says it makes it sound like it’s a declaration, an argument of defiance, and an admittance of guilt all at the same time.

Waiting for Shelby to elaborate proves fruitless, so Toni prompts, “Because of the Becca thing?”

A sharp intake of breath ensues. “Ah, no. Well, I guess. But also no.”

“Glad we could clear that up,” Toni says.

“So, you know I have a YouTube channel,” Shelby starts.

Toni sighs. “Did Martha tell you I’ve been watching you?”

“Um, no, actually,” Shelby says, voice brightening considerably. “But let’s keep going with that.”

“Never mind,” Toni says quickly. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ she thinks. “I only meant that if Martha did say that, she was a big fuckin’ liar, because I have _not_ been watching you.”

“Cool, so how long have you ‘not been watching’ me?” Shelby asks, and Toni can practically envision the obnoxious little quirk of her eyebrow she’s probably doing through the darkness.

“Irrelevant,” Toni mutters. She makes a little popping noise with her lips. “That cheered you up though, eh?”

“Yeah,” Shelby says, and Toni wants to smack herself for even bringing it up, because Shelby is clearly starting to shut down again. “Anyway, the YouTube thing is for fun, I guess. Or, that’s how it started. But now it’s literally my lifeline.” She takes a deep breath. “My parents are going to cut me off sometime, and I have to be ready.”

“What, cut you off financially?” Toni asks.

“For the most part, they’ve already done that,” Shelby says, a humorless chuckle following it. “I meant out of the family.”

“Oh.”

Toni doesn’t know what to say, and Shelby seems to know this, because she starts talking again. “And the thing is, I don’t even _like_ my parents. This is a conclusion I’ve come to after a whole identity crisis you had the privilege of missing, but the point is it’s not a huge loss.”

“But…” Toni starts.

“But,” Shelby continues dutifully, “sometimes I think about everything I sacrificed, everything I did, all the mistakes I made. Things that only happened when I was still trying to be in their good graces. And I just think, what was all that shit for if I just ended up fuckin’ _estranged_ from them anyway.”

“Is —“ Toni hesitates. “So this _is_ about the Becca thing?” No answer. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Toni says, “but have you spoken to her parents since then?”

“ _Her_ parents?” Shelby asks. “Why?”

“I don’t know what exactly went down,” Toni starts carefully, “and you don’t have to tell me, but it’s pretty fuckin’ obvious you blame yourself for something. Or have some guilt, or something, I don’t know.”

“What does that have to do with her parents?” Shelby asks.

“Well, they’re the closest you’d get to talking to _her_. It might give you closure, or something,” Toni says, trying to channel her inner Martha. “You could, you know, face the thing head on, right? Instead of pretending it’s not happening, or avoiding a tough conversation.”

“That’s rich,” Shelby mutters, “aren’t you the one who suggested coming up with an elaborate fake-dating plot just to get your sister’s mom off your back?”

“This is about _you_ ,” Toni says sourly. “C’mon, focus.”

There’s a pause, then a sigh.

Then, “That’s not a bad idea, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Toni says.

“Cherish this feeling, because I don’t think you’re capable of having a competent thought more than, say, once a year,” Shelby says, and while Toni sort of feels insulted, her heart jumps as she notices Shelby’s tone has lightened considerably.

She has a brand to fulfill, though, so throws her pillow across the room, aiming for Shelby’s face. “Alright, go to sleep.”

“You play basketball with a throw like that?” Shelby mumbles.

“Fuck off.” Silence. “Can I have my pillow back?”

It might take ten more minutes of bickering back and forth, but eventually they do fall asleep, and like most days, Shelby is already gone for class by the time Toni’s body forces herself awake.

The realization that, in a mere eight hours time, she will be sitting down to eat with Shelby’s parents should make her nervous. Considering the fact that she hasn’t heard a single good thing about them, though, she isn’t sure she’s _supposed_ to be nervous, given she isn’t sure she’s supposed to be trying to impress them.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Martha says, shaking her head. She takes a sip of her coffee, and then says, “Actually, I can’t believe _Shelby_ is doing this.”

“You and me both,” Toni mutters. She shoves the last bite of croissant into her mouth, and says, “Whatever. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck?” Martha tries.

It’s half-hearted at best, and Toni just gives her a look as she stands to leave. “Time to figure out what to wear. I’ll text you.”

“Since when do you put together _outfits_?” Martha calls towards her retreating form.

Toni flips her off.

The habit of doing things before checking to see who’s in her room should have been broken when Toni gave Shelby’s friend an accidental striptease, but here she is, launching herself into her room, chucking her backpack onto her side, and starting to speak before even turning around.

“So, are we telling our friends we’re not dating for real? ‘Cause I kind of already told Martha about it,” Toni says, turning around slowly. “And now I’ve just told two of your friends.” She scans the shamefully small dorm room, seeing no sign of her actual roommate. “And _you’re_ not even here.”

“We fuckin’ _knew_ it,” one of the friends says under her breath.

“Dot,” Toni greets.

“Hey, Half-Pint,” Dot says.

“It’s Toni,” she sighs. Her eyes narrow at the second friend, who she immediately recognizes from that vlog. “You’re the Trojan.”

“You really believe in that rivalry shit?” the girl says. She rolls her eyes. “ _Athletes_.”

“No offense, but why are you guys here?” Toni asks.

“Shelby’s parents are here to visit,” Fatin says, sobering slightly. “We’re here for when she gets back from class to offer moral support.”

“You should come to dinner with us,” Toni mumbles, ripping open her wardrobe.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dot says, staring at her incredulously. “You’re going to dinner with Shelby and her _parents_?”

“Well, yeah,” Toni says, shrugging. She winks. “I’m her girlfriend, remember?”

“So she’s going with the ‘fuck you’ angle,” Fatin says, and there’s a shit-eating grin on her face when Toni turns around. “Bringing her mean roommate as her fake girlfriend to meet her homophobic parents?” Fatin nudges Dot. “Maybe we _should_ go with them, just to see Dave’s face.”

“Mean roommate?” Toni complains.

“I think her exact words,” Dot says, “were, ‘full of spite, and doesn’t know when to stop talking.’”

Toni gives a little flick of her head. It’s not an unfair description. She examines her clothing options, which consists of mostly jeans, basketball shorts, and various tank tops or t-shirts, then sighs, turns away, and fixes her sights on the two of them instead. “How’d you guys become friends with Shelby, anyway?”

“I’ve known her since high school,” Dot says, then jerks a thumb over to Shelby’s bed, “and we met this one at LA Pride when her girlfriend spilled beer all over us.”

“Also a Trojan?” Toni guesses distastefully.

Fatin rolls her eyes. “Take it down a notch, Geronimo Stilton. She’s not in school yet, she’s taking a gap year.”

“I like her more than you already,” Toni says, turning back to her closet for the millionth time. Then she pauses, shifting towards them again slowly. “Wait. You knew her in high school?” Dot nods. “So, do you know about the Becca thing?”

Dot and Fatin share a look, and it isn’t a good one. Eventually, Dot says, “Yeah.”

“She told me to ignore them if they bring it up,” Toni says, “but she won’t even tell me what happened.”

“Ignore them?” Fatin scoffs. She holds up a finger. “No, if they bring Becca up, you tell them to fuck off.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to do that,” Toni says, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Tell them that if they’re going to bring Becca into the conversation, they better be ready to think about the role they played in what happened,” Dot declares, “and that no amount of hiding behind a Bible changes the fact that most of the motives and blame can be traced back to them.”

“I don’t even know what _happened_. Shelby clearly doesn’t trust me enough to tell me, so I really think I’m just supposed to ignore them,” Toni says. They stare at her. “What? I’m just here to do whatever Shelby wants.”

“Alright, Bottom,” Fatin says. Toni’s jaw drops. “I know that’s what Shelby said, but I also know she really just wants someone to stand up for her.”

Toni considers this. “If you’re wrong,” she says slowly, “Shelby will _literally_ kill me. And I live with her, so she actually could.”

“Your choice,” Dot says, shrugging, “but as her best friend, that’s what I would do.”

It’s starting to sound a lot like it’s _not_ Toni’s choice, but she thinks on it. Six hours later, sitting about as far away from each other as possible in the backseat of the Uber, she _still_ can’t decide what her plan is, and is secretly hoping it just never comes up so she doesn’t have to make a decision.

“Should we, like, hold hands?” Toni asks, climbing out of the car.

“To walk in?” Shelby asks. Toni nods. “Yeah, okay.” Toni extends her arm. “What, now?”

“The restaurant is, like, not that far away,” Toni mumbles. “Sue me for wanting to practice.”

“Never held hands with a girl before?” Shelby laughs.

“No, I was thinking I’d need time to adjusting to your sweaty, gross hands,” Toni shoots back, voice souring towards the end as Shelby laces their fingers together, and it becomes abundantly clear Shelby’s hands are neither of those things.

“Say less, Thumbtack,” Shelby says. She pauses in front of the restaurant door, and whether it’s conscious or not, she gives Toni’s hand a little squeeze. Taking a deep breath, she pulls open the door, and leads them inside.

The restaurant is about as busy as it gets on a Friday night, but in a room full of college kids and Californians, Shelby’s parents are immediately identifiable.

Their eyes practically burn holes into the spot where Shelby is gripping Toni’s hand as if holding on for dear life, and Toni gives a little squeeze before letting her go as they come up to the table.

“Shelby,” her dad greets. His tongue curls with poorly disguised distaste. “And this is?”

“This is Toni,” Shelby says, and then adds, “My girlfriend.”

“We live together,” Toni blurts out. The looks on their faces are pretty priceless, though.

“I’m sorry, what?” the mom says, and if Toni didn’t know she was a terrible person, it would be almost amusing how much her tone and facial expression when she says that reminds Toni of Shelby.

“We were assigned as dorm roommates,” Shelby explains, throwing Toni a look. Under her breath, she mumbles, “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, huh?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Toni hisses back.

“Oh,” the mom says. “That’s… yeah. That’s that.” She plasters on a smile. “I’m Jill.”

“Nice to meet you,” Toni says, ignoring the way Dave is practically dissecting her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

“Thanks,” Jill says.

As much as it very well may be the most awkwardly painful experience of her life, and as much as she’s never sat down with two homophobic people by choice, she has to say that, all things considered, it’s going pretty well.

Shelby rushes them past the awkward parts, and they do small talk about the menu, the weather, and life back home. Tentatively, Shelby asks about her siblings, and Toni wonders whether they’re even allowed to have contact with each other. She makes a mental note to ask Shelby about it later.

And then it happens.

It starts innocently enough, with Dave asking, “So, Toni, are your parents supportive of… this?” He gestures vaguely towards both of them.

“If you’re asking whether my mom is a judgmental asshole,” Toni says, “then no, she’s not.” She shrugs. “She has no issues with it.”

“And what does your mom do?” Jill asks.

“Not much lately,” Toni says, a grin sliding its way onto her lips when she hears Shelby cough on her water. “She died,” she explains.

“Oh,” Jill says, eyebrows shooting up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

And the moment is so close to passing when Dave says, “You don’t think it’s maybe related?”

“What?” Toni says.

He shrugs. “Your mother’s death. You ever thought it was God’s way of… giving you a hint?”

“Dave,” Jill says gently, but he barely even spares her a glance.

“If you’re implying that me being gay caused my mother to die,” Toni says, hands curling into fists under the table, “then, with all due respect, you can go fuck yourself.”

It’s not the most diplomatic Toni’s ever been.

Dave almost laughs at that, but leans forward, and knits his eyebrows together. “You don’t think there’s something to draw from this pattern?” He motions between them again. “You with your mother, Shelby with Becca.”

In the corner of her mind, Toni registers a sharp intake of breath from Shelby, but she just says, “Two people is hardly a pattern. I know you probably don’t believe in science, but correlation isn’t causation.”

“All these sacrifices, and for what?” Dave says, shaking his head like he can’t even hear her. “We’ve told Shelby that all she has to do is attend a camp, and we’ll support her again. She’s shouldering her tuition, her emotional burdens. She’s losing her family.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Toni tells him. “She’s not losing you, _you’re_ losing _her_.”

“By choice,” Dave says. He turns to her. “Is this choice really worth it? Even after Becca, it is _horrifying_ that you still choose —“

And Toni doesn’t remember really explicitly making the decision to do whatever Dot told her to, but suddenly she finds herself rising to her feet, and jabbing a finger in Dave’s direction. “I think it’s horrifying that you bring up Becca without acknowledging the role _you_ played in the whole thing.”

“Excuse me?” Dave says, while Shelby warningly says, “Toni.”

“You’re so ready to find some other, ridiculous way to blame someone or something else for what happened to Becca,” Toni says, “and you latch onto whatever fits your narrative without stopping to realize that all the real reasons just point back to _you_.”

Considering she has no idea who the fuck Becca even is, Toni thinks she’s doing pretty well.

Shelby tugs on her wrist lightly, and says, with a chillingly unreadable tone, “We should go.”

Neither of her parents say anything, just watch as they gather their things. Two steps away from the table, and Toni turns back. “And in case you didn’t know, Jesus wasn’t white.”

Somehow, they last the walk out the door, the wait for the Uber, and the car ride back to their dorm in total silence. They stare at the ground, their hands, anywhere but each other, and Toni wonders if tonight is the night she dies.

No sooner has their dorm door clicked shut behind them does Toni spin around and say, “In my defense, Dot told me to do it.”

Shelby is smiling lightly, and says, “Yeah, I figured that out, thanks.”

Toni chews on her lower lip. “Are you mad?”

“No,” Shelby says, sighing. She slides onto the floor, kicking off her shoes as she does, and leaning against her bed. “No, I’m not mad. Someone had to say it, and I knew it wouldn’t be me.” She chuckles, humorlessly, and says, “I act so… evolved. Like I’ve changed so much. And I still can’t even tell them what’s what.”

“You _just_ left their home,” Toni says. “It’s understandable if it takes some time for their freaky brainwashing to wear off.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they’re right. I mean, my life before was…” she struggles for a bit, then decides on, “Fine, I guess.” She nods. “It was fine. I had my family, and my community, and my church, and now I just have nothing.”

“You have yourself,” Toni says. “Your honest, true self.”

Shelby shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know if I want that.”

“Well,” Toni says, shrugging back. “You also have Dot. And the Trojan.” Shelby rolls her eyes, so Toni grins and adds, “And you have a hot, basketball legend of a girlfriend.”

“Might as well have a Smurf,” Shelby mutters. “You’re not even my real girlfriend. In fact, you are a large source of stress in my life.”

“Why?” Toni demands. Then she thinks about it for a second. “‘Cause of the… everything about me?”

Shelby nods. “Basically.”

“You also have your two million YouTube subscribers,” Toni reminds her. “I don’t know why anyone would willingly listen to you talk, but two million? That’s not nothing. And you built that all by yourself.”

“I’m not even _honest_ with them,” Shelby mutters. “I avoid questions about dating, and I just… don’t talk about it. Don’t ask, don’t tell, except, like, with myself.”

“Maybe that’s step one,” Toni suggests. “Tell your followers.”

“Step one of what?” Shelby laughs.

“Step one of rebuilding what you think you lost until you realize you didn’t lose anything at all,” Toni says. She sighs. “I’ve — I’ve been in the religion scene. Kind of. And if you want to pray, and do all that stuff on your own still, that’s fine. But organized religion is nothing to miss.”

“You were religious?” Shelby asks skeptically. “Alright, then, Polly Pocket, tell me a Bible verse.”

“I never read that shit,” Toni scoffs. “It’s boring as Hell. Doesn’t even have any pictures.”

“You sound like Dot,” Shelby says, smiling a little.

“Don’t tell me you actually read it,” Toni asks incredulously.

“Front to back,” Shelby says, almost sadly. “Practically have that thing memorized.”

“You have so much… loyalty,” Toni says, eyebrows knitting together. “And just so _much_ to give. Instead of draining yourself into a community that only supports you when you change yourself to fit in, give all that support to yourself. At the very least, give it to the people who actually care about you.”

“Like Dot?” Shelby says.

Toni nods. “Yeah, like Dot.” She takes a deep breath, wondering why she needs so much courage to, just, like, be nice to someone, and says, “You have already built so much for yourself, and you don’t even realize it. If you took everything you have, and everything you are, and you concentrated it on the right things, you could create a life that’s… well, whatever you wanted.”

Shelby just sits there, blinking at her, and almost double-takes when she realizes Toni doesn’t intend to say anything else.

“What, that’s it? No insult?” Shelby laughs. “You’re getting soft on me.”

“Well, I mean it,” Toni says, shrugging a little. And before she knows it, her so-nice-it’s-usually-just-for-Martha voice is coming out again, and she adds, “You have a lot to be proud of.”

And when Shelby responds with a small, wordless, sideways smile, Toni hopes she believes it at least a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loved reading all your comments on the last one, thank you <3
> 
> quinnfebrey on tumblr, come chat!!


	3. three

By some miracle, Shelby is _not_ the first one awake. In fact, Toni has gone out for basketball practice, coffee with Martha, and returned, only to find Shelby is still in bed.

She pushes open the door rather unceremoniously, and lets it slam closed. Or, slam as much as a door can slam when it’s on a spring specifically to stop it from being able to do so. Either way, it ruffles Shelby somewhat.

Toni sets the two cups on Shelby’s desk, and her muscle memory has her pulling her arm back to throw her backpack on her side of the room when something in her brain stops her. She sighs, and like she’s not even in control of her body, she lifts her backpack onto one of two hooks Shelby installed for both of them.

“Rise and shine,” Toni sings, whipping open their curtains.

“Too loud, Twinkie,” Shelby groans. She shuffles around, nothing but a mass of blankets and hair, until a little hole seems to be uncovered, and her head pops out. Her glare is highly ineffective, and sleep clouds her huff when she says, “You are so annoying.”

“Since when do you sleep late?” Toni says, crossing her arms. “That’s _my_ thing.”

“You don’t have a monopoly on sleeping in late,” Shelby says, slowly uncovering her neck and shoulders.

“You mean like the board game?” Toni says. Shelby stares at her. “I’m _kidding_. Jesus, you think I’m really that stupid.”

“Can you blame me?” Shelby mutters, letting her arms flop out of the covers. One falls down at her side, and the other covers her eyes. “Why are you awake so early?”

“Um, first of all, it’s almost ten,” Toni says, glancing at her watch. “Second, I had morning practice because our first game is tomorrow.”

“Gotta train hard for the bench, eh?” Shelby grins at her.

And, okay, while Toni is being heavily insulted, the blow is softened just because Shelby looks absolutely adorable all bundled up and sleepy. She has an image to maintain, though, so Toni rolls her eyes. “Why are _you_ still asleep?”

“I’m hungover, sue me,” Shelby mumbles.

“You’re — you _drink_?” Toni demands.

“If you’re trying to impersonate my highly conservative high school self, you’re doing great,” Shelby tells her.

“But you came back last night so… upright,” Toni sputters.

“Just because I’m not sloppy like you doesn’t mean I wasn’t drunk,” Shelby says, and this time it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“I’m not _sloppy_ ,” Toni scoffs, “I’m loose by choice.”

“Loose isn’t the positive descriptor you think it is,” Shelby mumbles. “Either way, you are being much too loud right now. Take it down a notch.” She plasters on a shit-eating grin. “If you can.”

“Very funny,” Toni says.

“‘Cause you’re already so short,” Shelby says.

“Got it, thanks.” For no reason in particular, Toni watches Shelby watch the ceiling for much too long, and then adds, “Now seems like a good time to tell you I brought you a coffee.”

Like she’s been electrocuted, Shelby sits bolt upright, blankets falling off to reveal her clad in just a sports bra. “Really?” And, not that Toni’s looking or anything, but Shelby has an actual six-pack.

“On your desk,” Toni says, gesturing vaguely over to it.

“Maybe I’ll date you for real,” Shelby says, clawing over to the cup.

Eloquence has never been her strong suit, which becomes pretty apparent as Toni thinks she manages to say something along the lines of, “Okay,” and then just a vague noise. Having no clear out of this conversation, Toni waits for God to find her an escape, but instead it comes in the form of a call from Bernice.

“ _Toni!_ ” Bernice says.

“I think you’re the only person ever that happy to hear from me,” Toni tells her, grabbing her own cup, and climbing onto her bed.

“ _Game day tomorrow!_ ” Bernice says. “ _Are you excited? First one as a Bruin, huh?_ ”

“Too bad you didn’t come to LA with me and Marty,” Toni says with a grin. “Then you could have come.”

“ _I’ll be watching on my TV_ ,” Bernice promises. “ _I didn’t call you just to hear your voice, though_.”

“Oh?” Toni pouts.

“ _Have you figured out your Thanksgiving plans yet?_ ” Bernice asks.

“Vandalize every Christopher Columbus statue in the U.S.,” Toni suggests.

Bernice is not impressed. “ _Toni_.”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “I guess I’ll just come back to Minnesota with Marty?” She plays with a little thread pilling off of her top sheet. “That’s still fine, right?”

“ _Of course_ ,” Bernice says. “ _And how’s your roommate situation?_ ”

“Uh, it’s fine,” Toni says, suddenly wishing she hadn’t complained incessantly about Shelby for weeks on end. “I mean, she’s still super annoying, and I would rather die than live with her for one more day, but it’s fine.”

Shelby flips her off.

“Eavesdrop much?” Toni hisses.

Shelby just rolls her eyes as Bernice says, “ _Well, I ran into Rega —_ “

“We’re dating,” Toni blurts out.

“ _I’m sorry?_ ”

“My roommate,” Toni says. “We actually… started dating. Kind of.” She refuses to meet Shelby’s gaze, and just stares at the slight swing of their window curtains. “That’s why the roommate situation has been better, anyway.”

“ _That does sound better_ ,” Bernice agrees. There’s a pause filled only with the static of the phone, and then, “ _So, do I get to meet her?_ ”

“Uh, no,” Toni says quickly. “Ideally never.”

“ _Sounds like she’s not real_ ,” Bernice teases.

“I’ll bring her back with me for Thanksgiving break,” Toni offers, right as Shelby stares at her with a ‘if looks could kill’ glare, and mouthes something along the lines of either, _I’m going to kill you_ or _Are you delusional?_

Neither are great options.

“ _I can’t wait_ ,” Bernice says.

Fuck.

“What the fuck?” Shelby demands, as soon as she sees the phone call end.

Which is fair. Toni can’t even do much besides furrow her eyebrows apologetically and say, “I’ll tell her you can’t come in, like, a few days.”

Still slumped over her coffee, Shelby looks highly unimpressed, but she just sighs and says, “I’ll think about it.” Whether it’s because she’s hungover or still half asleep, Toni isn’t sure, but she’s grateful.

Toni brightens. “Really?”

“I’ll _think_ about it,” Shelby says, jutting a finger out. “Only because I don’t really have any other plans.”

“Not gonna go home?” Toni asks.

One eyebrow arches. “What part of dinner with my parents made you think I would want to spend the holidays with them?” She slides her legs out of bed, pacing over to where she set her clothes out the night before, because of course she did, and adds, “Besides, Martha is pretty cool.”

“What about me?” Toni complains.

“You are a lot of things, Nugget,” Shelby says, pausing as she tugs a shirt on, “but ‘cool’ is not one of them.” As her shirt settles down, her eyes light up in a way that tells Toni she is about to say something incredibly irritating. Sure enough, she adds, “Although, perhaps ‘basketball legend’ is accurate. I suppose we’ll see tomorrow.”

“You’re coming to the game?” Toni doesn’t know whether to be upset, excited, or nervous.

“Fatin wants to go,” Shelby says, shrugging.

Toni’s eyebrows knit together. “Trojan? Why?”

Rolling her eyes, Shelby sets her cup down, and crosses over to her desk. “Maybe because you are _real_ annoying about her going to USC, so she wants to see if you Bruins are all that.”

Toni scoffs, “Why’d you saying ‘Bruin’ like that? _You’re_ a Bruin.”

“Yes, but I’m not an athlete,” Shelby says holding a finger up.

“What’s wrong with athletes?” Toni sputters.

Shelby actually pauses at that, and fixes one hand on her hip while the other gestures around vaguely in that one finger point she does. “Um, literally everything about you.”

It’s almost calming to just observe Shelby getting ready, given that unlike Toni, she actually plans for the days ahead. Her folders are exactly where she left them, her backpack is hanging on the hook, and all her assignments and electronics have been laid out ready to be packed up.

“You’re going to class?” Toni asks, knowing fully well that her body takes approximately twenty-four hours to recover from a night out.

Clicking her tongue, Shelby slings her backpack over both shoulders like the nerd she is, and says, “It’s a hangover, not polio.” She waves. “Thanks for the coffee, Kernel.”

“Colonel?” Toni says brightly. “That’s admirable. I like that.”

“No,” Shelby says, tilting her head to one side. “Kernel. As in, popcorn before it’s useful.”

**—**

As their group huddle comes to a close, Toni shrugs her team-issued warm-up pants back on, and scans the bleachers. They still have another twenty minutes before the game starts, but Martha is sitting right up front, smile wide as ever, phone held aloft like a mom at a pee-wee soccer game.

“Looking for someone?”

Turning, Toni catches the raised eyebrow of a teammate. “No,” she says, gaze shifting over the bleachers again.

A couple minutes later, in walks Shelby and her little triage of people. Martha catches her eye right away, and waves her over. Filing into the row is Shelby, of course, then Dot, Fatin decked out in gaudy, bright red and gold USC apparel, and a third Toni doesn’t recognize.

Shelby turns towards the court, and before they can make eye contact, Toni whips her head away, searching for anything else to look at so she doesn’t just stand there like an idiot.

Slowly, she tentatively looks back, and is rewarded (or punished, she hasn’t decided) with Shelby eyeing her with growing amusement. She looks kind of cute all up in the stands with her blue face paint, though, and Toni can feel herself smiling almost out of her control.

So, of course, she flips Shelby off, and turns back to the warm-ups happening on the court.

The same teammate from before is obviously laughing at her, and Toni rolls her eyes. “What?” she defends lamely.

“You look nervous,” Alex says. She winds a bit of pink pre-wrap around her neck, and snaps it off. She holds out the roll.

“Nah,” Toni says, waving away the pink distastefully. She roots around in her bag, and produces her own roll of navy blue. Alex’s words catch up to her, and she shakes her head, “And no, I’m not nervous. I don’t get nervous.”

“Apparently, you do,” Alex says. Tilting her eyes up and down Toni’s body pointedly, she looks at her with a facial expression that says something along the lines of, _If you aren’t nervous, why are you fidgeting like the energizer bunny on Adderall?_

“I guess it’s the first game,” Toni says, allowing a half-truth. “That’s a reason to be nervous, right?”

“First D1 game of your life? Fuck yeah,” Alex says as Toni’s eyes find the bleachers once more. “Either that, or…” she says, in a way that makes Toni absolutely sure she’s sporting a shit-eating grin, “Or, you’re trying to impress someone.”

Toni turns back, suspicions confirmed annoyingly so. “You remind me a lot of my roommate, you know.”

“How so?” Alex asks.

“You’re mean to me,” Toni pouts. But as she shoves her hands into her pockets, she realizes that she _is_ nervous.

“Hey,” Alex says, tone softening. She nudges Toni’s shoulder with her own. “You’ll be fine. Honestly, you probably won’t play much. Just a few minutes at the end after us vets have run up the scoreboard,” she teases.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toni mumbles, smiling down at her feet. Alex must be able to tell she has something else to say, because it’s quiet until she peers up at her. “Are _you_ nervous? Last first game?”

“A little,” Alex says, wrinkling her nose. “But, I don’t know. I’m ready to… see what’s next, I guess.”

“I hope I get drafted to your team,” Toni says, flushing a little.

“Aw, rookie,” Alex says, slinging an arm around her. “Tell you what; you make MVP your junior _and_ senior year, and I’ll put in a good word wherever I end up.”

“Please do your best to be somewhere cool,” Toni tells her.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Alex laughs. She squeezes her shoulder, then reaches up to fix her pre-wrap. “C’mon, we’re starting soon.”

Alex is right, of course. Toni is a freshman, and while she’s good — _really_ good —, it’s D1 collegiate basketball. _Everyone_ is good. So she warms the bench while the starters, which by now are mostly vets and seniors, bring UCLA to an easy lead in the first half.

While a tiny part of her wishes she was playing, she doesn’t even mind being on the sidelines because she essentially has free tickets to court seats.

She’s startled out of her zone-in on watching the game when her teammate next to her nudges her shoulder and looks between her and the court like, _Well?_

_Uh, well, what?_ Toni thinks, panicking. She re-winds through the last thirty seconds, and realizes for some reason only God knows (so, she’ll ask Shelby later), Toni has been chosen to take the penalty.

It’s what she was known for in high school, and Toni is pretty sure that’s why UCLA was so dead-set on scouting her, but to be asked to take the first penalty of the first game of her first year is a little unnerving.

She hops up and down a couple times under the guise of warming up her legs, though it does well to help dispel some of her jitters. Off to the side, Alex is mouthing something to her she can’t quite make out, but locking eyes with her bright blue ones calms her enough as it is.

Stepping up to the spot, Toni briefly wonders if this is one of the most important moments of her entire life. She decides it’s not, and as soon as she’s given the all-clear, she doesn’t give herself any time to over think it, and takes the shot.

And she makes it.

Grin spreading over her face, Toni just stands there, and lets herself be bombarded with her teammates. Alex is there for a second, gripping her by the shoulders and having “Fuck yeah!” screamed at her, and then she’s pushed aside by another teammate chanting, “Frosh frosh frosh!” and it’s overwhelming in the most blissful way.

All things considered, making that shot was _not_ important. It’s their first game against probably the worst ranked school in the NCAA, they are winning easily, and could have missed the penalty without it making a dent in their points.

Even still, Toni knows that it’s the principle of it all, and eats up the energy anyway. As she settles herself back onto the bench, legs shaking this time with the adrenaline of how undeniably happy she is, she wonders if this is what it’s like when people talk about their teammates being your family.

Maybe it’s because of the penalty, or maybe the coach just wants to see the rookies get some minutes on the court, but towards the end of the second half, she waves at her to sub-in for Alex.

Though breathless, and a little sweaty, Alex still looks perfect as ever as she jogs over to the side, and double high-fives her. “You got this!” she grins.

Considering they’ve known each other for three months at most, Toni doesn’t think she’s ever had anyone believe in her so much, or so quickly. She tries not to blush, and stammers out something along the lines of, “I sure hope so.”

Her nerves disappear as she strides into place on the court. Marking opponents, spotting teammates, passing, dribbling, following plays. Even if her mind is racing, her hands know what to do, and they work over-time to make up for the lags in her brain until she takes a deep breath, and her thoughts clear.

It’s just another game.

It’s going great, and she’s really hoping Martha is recording this shit for clout on Instagram because Toni has been eyeing an Under Armour sponsorship as soon as she’s done with the NCAA rules, and she heard they only work with accounts that have over fifty thousand followers.

(Toni has four thousand.)

She’s racing up the court, somehow deciphering the vague yells of her teammates directing her, and she’s just thinking that it would be amazing if this play went through, when all of a sudden, she’s flat on her back on the ground.

Through the daze, she registers a whistle, a little gasp from the crowd, and a pound of feet as the coach runs over with Alex in tow.

Amanda waves a medic over, and says, “Toni, did you hit your head?”

“No,” Toni says, though she did. She hopes it’s not obvious.

“Can you sit up?” the medic asks. Toni nods, and Alex slings an arm around her shoulder as they prop her into an upright position.

“I’m fine,” Toni says, blinking, and the way Alex’s grip on her only tightens gives away that she is a shit ass liar. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

“It looked like you hit your head,” the medic said.

“No,” Toni lies. And then, of course, she immediately leans over and vomits.

“Alright, let’s get her off the court,” the medic says.

Toni shakes her head, though that makes it start pounding against her skull, and she feels tears pricking at the back of her eyes in a way that is maddening. “No, I’m fine.”

“I have vomit on my shoe,” Alex says. “You’re not fine.”

“I can _do_ it,” she insists.

“Toni,” Amanda says. She rests two fingers gently under her chin. “This is not going to effect where you sit on the roster, okay?” Toni looks at her, trying to mask her doubtful expression, but failing. “I promise it won’t, so long as you heal, which involves _rest_ , and does _not_ involve resuming play.”

“There’s, like, a minute left,” Alex says, tugging on her. “C’mon.”

“Fine,” Toni mutters, and as soon as she’s pulled to her feet, she immediately starts swaying around. Embarrassingly, she audibly says, “Woaahh.”

Alex laughs at that, but the medic is frowning. “You didn’t hit yourself on the ground _that_ hard. Have you had head trauma before?”

On instinct, Toni stiffens, but she says, “No.”

He runs through a series of tests anyway, which Toni knows like the back of her hand, and she follows through them dutifully. Follow the finger, touch her nose, balance, pupil test with the flashlight. She just wants the whole thing to be over, and eventually, he releases her with a speech about concussions that she already has heard a eleventy million times.

Of course, as soon as she’s discharged from the medic’s iron grip, she’s given a smothering escort into the locker room with a send-off from Amanda. Toni retracts her statement that she likes that people care about her now, because she just wants to be _alone._

Right as she think she’s free, Alex is popping up and saying, “Shower time!”

“I would _love_ to shower with you, but something tells me this isn’t going to be what I’m picturing,” Toni says.

“It’s to make sure you don’t hit your head again, and _die_ , Frosh,” Alex says, rolling her eyes.

Eventually, she’s left by herself to walk out to meet her friends, only because Toni promised Amanda and Alex a million times over that Martha was _definitely_ waiting for her. For once, Martha’s overbearing tendencies come to fruition, but the way she’s frowning at Toni hints that this is not going to be fun.

“Hey, Marty,” Toni says, trying for casualty.

“Are you kidding me?” Martha yells at her, as much as Martha _can_ yell.

“It’s fine,” Toni says, waving her off. Shelby and her friends loiter in the background, looking around like they’re not sure if this is a real argument or not. Toni glances back, and waves. “Hey.”

“Good game,” Shelby says, striding over with a smile. “Well, until the takedown.”

“Seeing me vomit wasn’t a highlight?” Toni asks innocently.

“Is that what that was?” Shelby asks, feigning confusion. “You just look like that all the time, so I wasn’t real sure.”

“Does your head hurt?” Martha interrupts. Her arms are folded.

“No,” Toni lies. Before Martha can even say anything, because she _knows_ she’s a terrible liar, she sighs, and amends. “Not much, at least.”

“On the Toni scale, ‘not much’ means ‘a considerable amount,’” Martha accuses. She’s not wrong. She waves her hands around helplessly. “I have to go to my club meeting, but I don’t want to leave you.”

“Shelby will take care of me,” Toni says, turning with an immediate _Help_ expression.

“Uh-huh,” Shelby says, nodding vigorously. “We were going to get food, but we’ll have a quiet night in, and it’ll be fine.”

“What about tomorrow?” Martha frets. “I’m busy all day tomorrow. You need to be monitored for twenty-four hours, no sleeping.”

“I can sleep if my pupils aren’t dilated and I can walk,” Toni corrects, the memories coming back by rote. “Shelby just has to wake me up every two hours to make sure I’m not, you know, brain dead or something.”

“What do I do if you already are?” Shelby asks. Martha doesn’t laugh, just pins Toni down with an expression that Toni is pretty sure is only effective on her if it’s coming from Martha or Bernice. Right now, Martha is channeling both. _Fuck_. “Hey,” Shelby says, voice dropping slightly. She rests a hand lightly on Martha’s shoulder. “I got this, Marty, okay?”

“You have my number, right?” Martha asks. Shelby nods. “Okay. Alright, fine.” She throws an arm around Toni, mumbling, “I love you,” and then races off.

“Love you!” Toni calls at her retreating form. She turns to Shelby, eyebrows wiggling. “Ready, Doc?”

“Not my preferred role-play,” Shelby tells her. She grabs the little sports duffel from Toni, who opens her mouth to object. “Ah, ah. No heavy lifting, Coconut.”

“Sick fall,” Dot says as they make their way over.

“Thanks,” Toni grins.

“Good thing it wasn’t that far on the way down,” Shelby says. Then she adds, wildly unnecessarily, “‘Cause you’re short.”

“We babysitting the Half-Pint tonight?” Dot asks. Toni glares at her. She holds her hands up. “What? I’ve been around concussions before.”

“Hey! It’s a head bump,” Toni amends. She starts to shake her head, but that hurts, which doesn’t really help her case. “No concussion.”

“You’d think a good knock on the head would make her less… angry,” Shelby says, examining her like she’s an experiment. She shrugs. “Guess not. At least that theory has been tested.”

“Fight on,” Fatin says, gesturing with the signature USC peace sign. Toni flips her off.

“Your head okay?” the third girl asks. She’s quiet, dressed in apparel from neither school, and has a mousy sort-of appearance, but in a cute way. Her bright blue eyes peek out from behind over-sized dad glasses that manage to look good on her, and it’s possible they rival Shelby’s for ‘most addicting to look at.’

“Uh-huh,” Toni says. “All good.”

“I’m Leah,” she says, and Toni loves that she doesn’t stick out a hand for them to shake. 

“Thanks for coming,” Toni says, though she has an urge to ask, _Why did you?_

Leah must read her expression, because she smiles and says, “I’m Fatin’s girlfriend.”

“What?” Toni says, ignoring the glare incoming. “But you're so… nice.”

“Do you _want_ to hit your head again?” Fatin asks. “Because Dot can make that happen.”

Leah just laughs, slinging an arm around Fatin, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Fatin softens in a way that Toni would totally make fun of Fatin for, if she didn’t know for a fact she reacts the same way when pretty girls kiss her.

Toni doesn’t miss the way Shelby hangs back slightly when they start towards the car, so she follows suit, falling into step next to her.

“So, we were going to hang out tonight,” Shelby says, nodding towards the cluster of three in front. “But I can make them leave if you’d rather have, like, a quiet night in.”

“That’s not really fair,” Toni says, frowning. Shelby just tilts her head to the side. “It’s your room, too.”

“You just cracked your skull against the floor, and vomited on your hot teammate,” Shelby tells her. “I think you’re allowed to request one night of rest.”

“Okay, fine,” Toni allows. “And back off of Alex, she’s mine.”

Shelby leads them to her car, which is a white Lexus, of course. It’s maybe the most white girl car ever, but Toni realizes that, given what she knows about the Goodkind parental unit, it’s almost guaranteed Shelby bought the vehicle herself. She decides to just be impressed.

“Shotgun,” Toni calls immediately.

An indignant noise bubbles up from Dot. “Dude, no, I called shotgun before you got here.”

“Doesn’t count,” Toni says, furrowing her eyebrows. “Everyone knows the entire party has to be present for anyone to claim a seat.”

“That’s _not_ a rule,” Dot says. She folds her arms. “Besides, my dad is dead. So, I deserve it.”

“Nice try,” Toni laughs. Dot’s jaw drops. “My mom is dead, too, and I don’t even _have_ a dad, _and_ I just hit my head.” Dot glowers at her. “Check and mate.”

“Fine,” Dot grumbles. “But I call shotgun for next time.”

“We’ll see if there’s a next time,” Toni says, turning to Shelby. “Let’s see those driving skills, Texas.”

As it turns out, Shelby is a horrific driver. For all the reasons Toni has to make fun of her, she honestly never imagined shitty driving habits would be one of them. Shelby always seemed so rule-abiding, annoyingly so, but it turns out she does not extend that to the laws of the road.

“How _fast_ are you going?” Toni says, gripping her seatbelt.

“Just ninety,” Shelby says, tucking her left leg up under her right thigh.

Warily, Toni eyes the way their little metal box, which is hurtling down the freeway at ninety miles an hour, is being steered with nothing more than Shelby’s left hand. A hand that is draped lazily over the bottom of the wheel at that.

“I’m nauseous,” Toni says.

“You just hit your head,” Shelby says, throwing her a highly unconcerned glance. “You’re hardly the pinnacle of test subjects.”

“Who says pinnacle?” Toni mutters.

Safe in the backseats, Leah, Fatin, and Dot don’t seem worried in the slightest. The three of them barely even look up from Fatin’s phone when Shelby merges right and is honked at by what feels like six different cars.

“Oh, my God,” Toni says.

“You need to calm down,” Shelby says, looking over at her.

“No, no, Taylor Swift,” Toni says, “eyes back on the road.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I never imagined _this_ would be thing you’re terrible at.”

“Terrible?” Shelby says indignantly. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?”

“ _That’s_ your measurement of success?” Toni whisper-yells as they cruise off the free-way. She waves at the sign. “Speed limit twenty-five on the off-ramp, Texas!”

“That’s a suggestion,” Shelby says, scoffing.

“Yeah, a suggestion from the people who _built_ this godforsaken road!” Toni explodes. Shelby shrugs. Toni gapes at her helplessly. “I mean, _they_ would know, right?”

She’s cut off as she’s thrown against the side of the car because Shelby is going around the suggested-twenty-five-miles-an-hour curve at sixty. It starts to become apparent that if the car ride doesn’t kill them, Toni will, but they do somehow get to their destination in one piece.

“Oh, God,” Toni groans, wiggling out of the car as soon as they roll up to a parking spot.

“Suck it up,” Shelby says sourly. She pauses. “Wait, you’re not talking about your head, right?”

“No, I’m talking about your trauma-inducing driving skills,” Toni says.

“Then suck it up, Skittle,” Shelby says. She grabs Toni’s bag from the backseat, and throws it over her shoulder.

“Update us on the Half-Pint, will ya?” Dot calls, following Fatin and Leah where they’ve split off to head to their own car.

“I will,” Shelby promises, right as Toni says, “I have a name, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dot says. “Your name is Half-Pint.”

She waves before Toni’s juiced out brain can come up with something witty to say, and as they’re walking up to their dorm, Shelby says, “So, Martha says you need to eat.”

“Not hungry,” Toni says, swiping her B Card.

“She says you also have to take Ibuprofen, and Ibuprofen has to be taken with food,” Shelby says, reading from her phone.

“That’s a _suggestion_ ,” Toni says, throwing Shelby’s words back at her.

“Well, the people who made the medicine would know, right?” she mocks.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not eating, not taking meds,” Toni shrugs. “You’re off the hook.”

“Ah, no,” Shelby says, “because Martha wants photographic evidence of both of these events. So, it’s happening.” She pauses with the key in the door, hands on her hips, and raises her eyebrows. “Do _you_ want to argue with her?”

“No,” Toni mumbles. She pushes her way into the room, and throws herself onto her bed, wincing at the way collision with her _pillow_ hurts.

“Linh said there’s pizza in the common room, so I’ll go grab us some,” Shelby decides.

“Who the fuck is Linh?” Toni says, voice muffled by her pillow.

“The RA?” Shelby says. “Who we’ve been living with for three months?”

“Hm,” Toni says.

“Will you live if I leave you for five minutes?” Shelby sighs. Toni makes another noise, and a few seconds later, hears the door swinging shut.

Groaning, Toni rolls herself onto her back, tucking the pillow under her head. She knew the odds of her hitting her head sometime in the four years she plans to play for UCLA were decently likely, she just never thought it would be during her literal first game.

She knows the statistics, too. The doctors were very clear that not only is she now more at risk of concussion, meaning that bumps which may not effect a healthy brain could cause damage to hers, but the effects will also be more severe each time. Which, clearly, if a slight knock on the ground caused a puking session.

She doesn’t want to cry, because she hates crying. Toni can feel frustration simmering up in her chest, though, which is making her eyes water, which is making her _more_ frustrated, which is making the urge to cry even stronger. It’s a vicious cycle.

For once, Toni is delighted over Shelby’s return to their room, because it forces her to push her emotions down and not address them. You know, like you’re not supposed to.

“I’m back,” Shelby says, carrying two plates, and rattling a little bottle in the other. “I have pizza and Ibuprofen.”

“I will have _one_ slice of pizza,” Toni declares, “but just take a picture of the bottle and tell her I took two.”

“Uh-uh,” Shelby says, shaking her head. She jimmies out a couple pills. “Martha was very clear. I take my job seriously.”

“Okay, you’re not _actually_ a doctor,” Toni says, glowering at the little red dots she can see in Shelby’s hand.

“Take the medicine, Angelina Ballerina,” Shelby says.

“That one doesn’t even make sense,” Toni says.

“She’s a mouse, she’s small,” Shelby says, like, _Duh._

“Still no,” Toni says, folding her arms.

Shelby glares at her. “Can you just take it?”

“No means no, Texas,” Toni says stubbornly.

Shelby sighs, setting the plates down, and stands over her like she’s trying to solve a math problem. “Are we really going to have to do this the hard way?”

Without thinking, because that’s never been something she’s known for, Toni questions aloud, “What’s the hard way?”

As she soon finds out, the hard way involves Shelby climbing on top of her. With the weight of Shelby’s hips digging into hers, Toni wonders whether this is God’s way of giving her a punishment or a reward. She reaches up lamely to push her off, but Shelby just grabs both her wrists in one hand, and pins them above her.

And, well, Toni was mostly just being difficult because she doesn’t really have anything else to be, but now that she’s here, she has to stick to her morals. She clamps her mouth shut, glaring up at Shelby.

Without skipping a beat, Shelby pinches her nose closed, and for a half-second Toni thinks this might be the moment Shelby finally murders her. The idea is ridiculous, because of course her mouth instinctively falls open so she can breathe, and with a stupid victory smile, Shelby pops the two pills in, then leans down.

Hand covering her mouth, with the other still pinning Toni’s wrists above her head, Shelby leans closer and closer and closer until Toni accidentally swallows for reasons completely unrelated to the medicine in her mouth.

_Goddammit_ , she thinks, as Shelby leans back up, looking awfully smug.

“So, I know Marty wanted photographic evidence,” Toni starts, trying to hide the fact that what just took place was apparently a wet dream she never knew she wanted, “but I don’t think that’s appropriate to send to her.”

Climbing off of her, Shelby laughs and says, “She can pay for my OnlyFans if she wants proof of Ibuprofen taking.”

Toni doesn’t know if she’s kidding or not, so she shoves a bite of pizza into her mouth to stop herself from asking something dumb like, _Really?_

“Hey,” Shelby says, perched at her desk chair. She holds up her phone. “Pose with your pizza.”

Toni tilts the plate towards the camera. “For your OnlyFans?”

Shelby clicks a photo with her thumb, and lowers her phone. “No, Scrappy. For _Martha_.”

Though she watches her eat every damn bite of pizza, as soon as she’s done, Shelby does leave her alone, and busies herself at her desk with her work. Toni plugs in her headphones, keeping them on low volume so her brain won’t riot over the assault of the drum-line, and tries to drown out her thoughts with a bunch of songs that just make her want to think _more_.

“You’re allowed to sleep, you know,” Shelby tells her.

“Doesn’t mean I can,” Toni says, shrugging. She lifts one earbud out.

“Why was Martha so concerned?” Shelby asks, laying out a pair of jeans and a shirt for the next day.

“She’s overprotective,” Toni says. “That’s all.”

Turning towards her half-way, Shelby just arches an eyebrow. “You don’t have to tell me why, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“Well, I’ve had a concussion before,” Toni admits, biting at her lower lip.

“Yeah, I managed to put that together for myself,” Shelby laughs.

“Do you wanna hear the story or not?” Toni complains. She stares up at the ceiling. “Remember why I did the fake dating thing in the first place?”

“That breakup you had,” Shelby says, stacking her textbooks. She freezes.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Toni says quickly. “Like, it wasn’t abusive or anything. But they’re connected.” Shaking her head a little, she hurries on. “Anyway, I’m, like, at risk for concussions and stuff now.”

“How is it safe for you to play a contact sport?” Shelby asks.

“Basketball is hardly a contact sport,” Toni says, rolling her eyes. “But, uh, actually, it’s really not.”

“Then —“ Shelby starts.

“I don’t really have a choice,” Toni tells her. “I have nothing without basketball.”

“That’s not true,” Shelby says, but she doesn’t really look like she has anything else she can say.

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better,” Toni says. She shuffles further under the blankets, tucking them up at her chin. “It’s fine, it’s just… I need basketball. And I wanted to do this whole dating thing to prove to Martha’s mom that I’m better. Like, emotionally or something like that.”

“Are you?” Shelby asks. “Better?”

The word, _Yes_ , is on the tip of Toni’s tongue, but for some reason, honesty comes tumbling out, and she says, “I don’t know.”

“Good thing I’m coming to Thanksgiving, right?” Shelby says, smiling a little

Toni feels her eyes light up. “Really?”

“Really,” Shelby says.

And suddenly, when Shelby had asked her if she was better, instead of _Yes_ or _I don’t know_ , she wishes she’d said, _I think I’m starting to be_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore that the timeline makes no sense. that's what happens when you don't plan ahead at all lol
> 
> quinnfebrey on tumblr, come chat!


	4. four

Unsurprisingly, Toni’s head hurts.

She blinks herself awake with a groan, slowly coming to terms with the fact that not only does she _still_ have a headache, but there’s also a pressing pain in her elbow and back. Wincing at the brightness of the light, she starts to roll over to shove her face into her pillow, but a voice stops her.

“Ah-ah,” Shelby sings out. “Wake up.”

She turns her face. “What’s it to you?” she mumbles.

“I’m going to class,” Shelby tells her, backpack already perched on both shoulders like a loser, “and I can’t have you dying while I’m gone. So, up and at ‘em.”

“Marty would let me sleep,” Toni complains.

“Actually, it was her idea to wake you,” Shelby says, shrugging. When Toni doesn’t move, she says, “Well, get up.”

“Isn’t patience a virtue or something?” Toni mutters. She hauls herself into what could pass as a sitting position if she were, you know, a corpse. “I’m up.”

Shelby doesn’t look impressed. “Promise you won’t go back to sleep?”

“Yes,” Toni sighs, fumbling around for her phone. She can see sixteen missed messages from Marty, so she locks it again immediately.

“Alright,” Shelby says, and though her tone says she’s annoyed, there’s something akin to worry hiding in the back of her eyes. Toni hopes to God Martha didn’t tell her anything. “There’s coffee on your desk, and a bear claw.”

“Really?” Toni’s eyes light up.

“But!” Shelby starts. She raises her eyebrows sharply. “You can only have it if you take the painkillers as well.”

A pause.

“Fine,” Toni says. 

“Cheer up, it’s a new day!” Shelby says brightly. She swipes at her desk for her keys and her B Card, and heads for the door. “See you, One-Ply.”

The coffee and food nurses her headache somewhat, as well as the demeaning humiliation of receiving a nickname based off of the strength of toilet paper. Even then, Toni knows better to get her hopes up, and the Ibuprofen barely touches the persistent throb in her head throughout the day.

She tries to placate Martha’s texts, but it apparently doesn’t work when Toni is awoken from her cat-nap to the signature knock Martha always does.

Sighing, she swings her legs out of bed, and pulls open the door. “Hey, Marty.”

“You’re avoiding me,” she accuses.

“No,” Toni lies, and then offers a half-truth of, “I’m just tired.”

“Well, I brought dinner,” Martha says, holding up a bag. “And you _will_ eat with me.”

“Tacos?” Toni asks hopefully.

“And a strawberry Jarritos for you,” Martha agrees, peering into the bag. She looks around. “Where’s Shelby?”

“Class, I presume,” Toni shrugs. “Or hanging out with her friends. Why would I know?”

“She was, like, really worried about you,” Martha says, frowning. She deposits the food onto Toni’s bed, climbing onto the side without the pillow, and beginning to unpack it. “Like, during the game. I thought she was going to run onto the court.”

“No,” Toni laughs, squashing down the glimmer of hope in her chest before something else does it. “No, she’s not the type to be worried about me.” Martha looks at her with something akin to _That’s fucking stupid_ written across her face. Pausing with her fork in the rice, Toni says, “Marty, she doesn’t even like me.”

“You still believe that?” Martha says, rolling her eyes. “She hates you just as much as you still hate her.”

“So, a lot then?” Toni offers.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Martha says, shaking her head. “She wouldn’t be coming to Minnesota with you while pretending to be your _girlfriend_ if she didn’t like you, Toni.”

“Speaking of,” Toni adds, ignoring everything else Martha just said, “we should book our plane tickets soon.”

“Right,” Martha says slowly.

“What’s this?” Toni says, waving her fork around Martha’s face. “What’s that face?”

“What face?” Martha says innocently. Toni narrows her eyes. She cracks immediately, already putting her puppy dog eyes on. “Okay, don’t hate me.”

“Don’t give me a reason to,” Toni fires back.

“We’re not going to fly,” Martha says, already wincing.

“Okay,” Toni says. “So, are we teleporting?” The puppy dog eyes grow larger. “Because I just _know_ we are not _road-tripping_ from California to Minnesota.”

Martha takes a very drawn out swig of her own tamarind Jarritos. Finally, she says, “It only takes twenty-six hours.”

“Oh, my God,” Toni mutters.

“It’ll be fun!” Martha tries.

“You say that now,” Toni says through a bite of taco, “but wait until you get into a car with Shelby behind the wheel.”

“She’s probably a really good driver,” Martha says doubtfully. “Right? She’s so… law-abiding.”

** — **

Toni briefly wonders if she hallucinated Shelby’s nauseating driving skills, but unfortunately, she did not.

“Shotgun!” Toni sings, hauling her bag into the trunk. 

“Dammit!” Martha says. “You always call before me.”

“Too slow,” Toni shrugs. She sidles up to the passenger side as Shelby sighs.

“Doesn’t the owner of the car get any say in this?” she asks.

“Uh, no,” Toni says. She jiggles the door handle. “Now, open up. I’m cold.”

“You’re a child,” Shelby tells her, but dutifully unlocks it anyhow.

“How’s your head?” Martha calls from the backseat.

“Totally fine,” Toni says airily. “That was, like, months ago.”

“Um, it was two weeks,” Martha says.

“Exactly,” Toni agrees. She buckles herself in quickly, exaggerating the movement as Shelby rolls her eyes. “Buckle up tight, Marty.”

“Actually, the whole reason seatbelts are effective is because they move with you,” Martha says, clicking hers in. “Also, I trust Shelby.”

“Thank you,” Shelby says pointedly.

Twenty minutes later, Toni thinks Martha has probably rescinded that statement if the white sheen across her face is any indication. Toni grins, looking back. “You still trust her driving?”

“Mhm,” Martha says, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Y’all are being mean,” Shelby pouts.

“You know Martha isn’t capable of that,” Toni says.

“It’s not that bad,” Martha pipes up. “If I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m on a roller coaster.”

“Oh, fun!” Toni says.

“Hey,” Shelby says, slapping around in Toni’s direction. “Steer for me.”

“What?” Toni stares at her incredulously.

“I need to text Dot,” Shelby says, nodding at the road. “Steer for me.”

“I don’t think that’s safe,” Toni says.

“Or, I could let Jesus take the wheel,” Shelby offers, miming lifting her hands off.

“No!” she cries out.

“‘Kay, then you do it,” Shelby says.

“Toni, please,” Martha mumbles.

After a few hours, they really just can’t take it anymore, and Martha swaps for Shelby. The plan is to drive straight through and just switch off whenever the person driving gets tired. It’s simultaneously the best and worst way to road trip.  They stay awake with mountains of Takis, hot Cheetos, and Red Bull, and from the backseat Shelby takes it upon herself to personally deliver all the red and blue sour gummy worms to Martha while she’s driving.

“Maybe I went Shelby as my co-pilot,” Martha says, as she happily pops another gummy worm into her mouth.

“Because she’s feeding you candy?” Toni scoffs. “I didn’t know your loyalty could be bought. Good to know.”

“Maybe she just likes my good attitude,” Shelby throws back.

“It’s hard to have a good attitude when you’re locked in a metal box with the most annoying person on the planet,” Toni mutters. “Also, you prefer Disney World to Disneyland, so, I don’t trust you.”

Once again, Toni falls victim to her own decisions, and braces herself for what’s coming.

“As far as I can remember, _we_ have never talked about our Disney park preferences,” Shelby observes, a smile spreading through her words. “However, I _did_ go to Disney World and vlog it. Say, two years ago.”

“Oh? What a coincidence,” Toni mutters.

“Mm, yes, a coincidence,” Shelby grins. 

“I thought you told Shelby you watch her YouTube channel,” Martha says, completely oblivious to the devastation she could wreak.

“I did,” Toni says quickly. She nods. “Uh-huh. We talked about how I watched that one single video of hers that you sent to me.”

“Right,” Martha says. She looks like she’s going to try to elaborate. Knowing she can’t lie to save her life, Toni hopes to God she doesn’t. Luckily, Martha can’t seem to figure out what to say because she just repeats, “Right.”

“Anyone mind if I play some music?” Shelby asks brightly.

“Of course not,” Martha says, because she’s, you know, a nice person. The Glee cover of ‘Raise Your Glass’ starts blaring through the speakers. Martha practically starts clapping. “I love this song!”

“Oh, God,” Toni mumbles. 

Even still, while Martha might have the worst music taste known to man, she _does_ last a whole seven hours behind the wheel until she pulls off at an exit with a sign saying there’s a gas station.

“Nap time,” she yawns. “Shelby, do you mind riding shotgun so I can spread out in the back?”

“Oh, I can totally drive,” Shelby says.

“No,” Toni says before Martha can do something like agree. “No, absolutely not.”

Pointedly, Shelby turns back towards Martha. “Well, anything _you_ want, of course. Thank you _so_ much for driving.”

“Kiss-ass,” Toni mutters. Shelby sticks her tongue out at her. “Oh, that’s super mature.”

“I’m matching the demographic,” Shelby says.

“You already used that joke,” Toni says, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“It’s not a joke, it’s just true,” Shelby tells her, buckling her seatbelt in.

Toni opens her mouth to fire back, but before she can, Martha grumbles from the back seat, “I said it’s nap time.”

They shut up after that.

If Toni’s being honest, it’s not the worst thing she’s ever had to do. She actually likes driving, particularly at night time when nobody else is on the road. It’s just her, the moon, and the soft hum of her playlist in the background.  In the backseat, Martha is absolutely passed out, which she deserves. In the passenger seat, Shelby alternates between staring out the window, smiling at her phone, and resting with her eyes closed.

With her left leg tucked up under her right thigh, and her left hand settled on the bottom of the wheel, Toni flicks the car on to cruise control at a nice, safe seventy-five miles per hour. Her right hand dangles somewhere in between her thigh, the wheel, and the gear shift in the center console, like it doesn’t know where to be.

For a split-second, Toni allows herself to entertain the idea that, if things were different, Shelby might hold it.

Whatever.

It’s nearing six in the morning when Shelby wakes. Martha hasn’t so much as stirred since she first fell asleep, and if Toni didn’t know for a fact she sleeps like a corpse, she’d be a bit concerned.

The sunrise has just started to peek out from the tree-line, and bathed in the soft, pink glow, Shelby is quite the sight. She yawns, running a hand through her hair, and righting her posture. Because staring at someone for a good two minutes is usually kind of creepy, she seems to pick up on the fact that there are eyes on her.

With a gentle start, Shelby turns, a smile gracing her lips so soft it’s like she’s too sleepy to remember she usually glares at Toni. “You’re staring. Do I have drool on my face, or something?”

“Uh, no,” Toni says, averting her gaze quickly. She tries to cool the flush rising in her cheeks. Before she can say something dumb like, _You look really pretty_ , she says, “It’s morning time,” as if that’s any less stupid.

“I can see that,” Shelby laughs. She downs half a water bottle, and Toni feels nauseous just watching her. “How much further?”

“Like, ten hours,” Toni sighs. Shelby opens her mouth. “No. Martha is taking a shift after.”

“Maybe we’d get there sooner if you’d let me drive,” Shelby argues. “The faster you go, the faster you arrive.”

“Right, well, I’d like _to_ arrive, not get in a crash die halfway there,” Toni says, pointedly putting both hands back on the wheel.

“I’ll have you know I’ve never been in a single accident,” Shelby says proudly. “I’ve never even had a speeding ticket.”

“How?” Toni gapes at her. “I got ticketed once for going sixty- _six_ in a sixty- _five_ zone.”

“Maybe I’m a superior driver,” Shelby says innocently.

“Or maybe you’re just a pretty white girl that never gets held accountable for her actions,” Toni mutters.

“Careful,” Shelby says, winking, “What’s this, the third time? If you keep calling me pretty, someone’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Toni flips her off.

Eventually, somehow, after the longest day of Toni’s entire life, they roll up to the Blackburn residence. Hauling herself out of the car, Toni doesn’t think she’s ever been so happy to see that signature front door. But as  they’re walking up, Toni wonders for the first time if Bernice is actually going to _like_ Shelby. She didn’t really care when she first brought up the idea because it wasn’t real, but somewhere deep down she wonders what would happen if it eventually was.

It should have been obvious, but Bernice _doesn’t_ like Shelby.

She loves her.

It helps that Shelby is clearly charming the absolute pants off of her, and really selling herself as both a girlfriend and Martha’s newest friend. With little compliments of “Wow, that painting is absolutely to die for!” or “Now I know where Martha gets that gorgeous face from!” it’s pretty clear Bernice is smitten.

“I’ve got Martha set up in your guys’ old room,” Bernice says, “but the other kids won’t be back this year, so you and Shelby can have the other to yourself.”

“What?” Toni says. “No, I’ll take the couch.”

“Toni,” Bernice chuckles, “it’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Toni says vaguely, ignoring her blatant flush, as well as the shit-eating grin on Shelby’s face. “But it’s also fine if I take the couch.”

“You don’t want to share?” Bernice looks confused to the point of amusement.

And then, because Toni never thinks things through, she blurts out, “We’re abstinent.”

There’s an extremely heavy pause.

“Bedrooms are for sleeping, you know,” Bernice finally says.

Somehow Toni survives the awkwardness of _that_ situation, and finds herself traipsing up the stairs after Shelby, who tosses back one final, “Thank you _so_ much for having me this Thanksgiving” over her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, keep it moving,” Toni mutters.

As soon as they’re inside the room, Shelby practically dissolves into laughter. “We’re abstinent? What is _wrong_ with you?”

“I thought you’d be more comfortable with me on the couch!” Toni protests, cheeks flaming again. “Sorry for, like, trying to be a good person.”

“We’ve been sharing a room since _August_ ,” Shelby says, staring at her.

For some reason, fact that they haven’t been sharing the same _bed_ does not seem like a critical piece of information to Shelby. Without sounding like a literal twelve-year-old, and without admitting her now very hard to conceal sort-of-maybe-crush, Toni wonders how on Earth she’s supposed to reply.

Eventually, she comes up with, “Okay, so?”

It’s not her best.

Maybe Shelby is just an impeccable actress, or maybe she really _is_ having a good time, but Bernice even comments on how happy she seems to be there.

“I have to be honest, I wasn’t sure what to make of her,” she says. Toni relates. They stand in silence for a few seconds, watching through the kitchen window as Martha and Shelby lie out in the tiny patch of sunlight on the front lawn.

“She’s kind of like that,” Toni says. Then, “She reminds me of Regan, kind of.”

“Really?” Bernice looks surprised.

“Yeah,” Toni laughs. She shrugs. “I mean, a little, I guess. There’s little differences that make sense for why it didn’t work out with Regan.” There’s a pause. “Besides the obvious, of course.”

“She’s been a good friend to Martha, too,” Bernice says thoughtfully. She nods towards the window as if that’s proof enough. “I always felt like It was you and Regan _or_ you and Martha. Like you didn’t really work as a trio.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Toni says again.

“What do _I_ know, though, right?” Bernice chuckles.

“No, that’s… accurate,” Toni says eventually. “Marty is always going to come before anyone else, you know that. It’s nice to be with someone who really likes hanging out with her.” She pauses. “And, you know, Shelby’s friends are actually cool too. I guess my relationship with Regan felt… isolating at times.”

“You weren’t really close with hers,” Bernice says thoughtfully.

Toni shakes her head. “No, we mostly hung out on our own. Which was cool, and all, but I’ve been there done that with the only seeing one person at a time thing.”

“Do Shelby’s friends go to UCLA?” Bernice asks, reaching out for her mug.

Toni passes it to her, making a face. “No, one of her friends goes to USC. The other two are taking a gap year.”

“Lucky you got paired as roommates, then,” Bernice comments. She takes a sip of her drink, and watches Toni’s expression with a little too much scrutiny to feel completely innocent.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Toni says. There’s a beat of silence as they watch Martha and Shelby pointing at the clouds like nerds.

Eventually, the silence is broken again. “Does Shelby know about…” Bernice trails off, but the intent is obvious.

“No,” Toni says quickly. She rubs at the back of her neck. “I, uh, I’m going to tell her. Sometime. Soon.”

“It’s only your story to tell,” Bernice says. It sounds like that’s the end of it, but then, with a little smile, she adds, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference to her.”

“No?” Toni says, eyebrows shooting up. “Regan’s mom literally hates me.”

“She’s not the most objective source,” Bernice points out. “No one is saying you’re absolved of everything wrong you’ve done. But you’ve changed a lot, and that’s worth something.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Toni sighs. She watches the way Shelby leans over to pick a bit of grass out of Martha’s hair, and the way the sun catches on her hair, and the way her smile is the brightest thing out there, and wonders when the sight of Shelby started calming her down. “So, you like her though, right?”

Bernice gives her a knowing smile. “Yeah, I do.”

As the day continues, it is almost astonishing at how well Shelby plays the part of fake-girlfriend. So much so that Toni starts to suspect she must have done it before.

It’s the way she’s just a little more physical, but not so much that it’s exaggerated or too far over the line. The way she greets Bernice with a smile, but lets her hand fall to the small of Toni’s back, or the way she stands just a little closer to Toni than anyone else.  And honestly, while Toni knew this would be a disaster because since when does she make decisions that don’t end up that way, she has to give herself some leniency. After all, when she brought up this whole idea, she really didn’t even _tolerate_ Shelby.

How was she supposed to know she’d end up bringing her back for Thanksgiving and having a heart attack every time Shelby’s hands brushed her waist?

Evening finds them retreating to their shared room. Shelby doesn’t seem to find anything of it, and just flops onto the bed with her phone. Toni starts busying herself with sorting her clothes, as if she brought more than three shirts, but eventually Shelby breaks the silence.

“Don’t freak out," she stars, which is never a good sign. "But, I was just thinking… well, you don’t have to tell me anything." _Oh, God_ , Toni thinks. Shelby frowns. “I said don’t freak out!”

“Of course I’m freaking out,” Toni says, “you’re interrogating me!”

“I haven’t even asked a question yet,” Shelby says. Toni just glares at her. “Look, all I’m saying is that I think it would be nice if I had a little more context about… all this.” She gestures to the room. “Like, how you became Martha’s sister?”

“It’s a long story,” Toni says, internally sighing, because she _knew_ this was coming.

With a gentle deep breath, Shelby sets her phone down. She crawls over to the end of the bed, and sits cross-legged so she can look directly down at where Toni is kneeling, as if that eye contact doesn’t make it ten times worse.

“I don’t want to pressure you, okay?” Shelby says softly. “But you know kind of a lot about my family, and if it would help you to tell me, you can.”

Toni stares at her suitcase. She doesn’t know if she should be more surprised that Shelby is even in a position to be asking, or more surprised that she’s about to actually tell her stuff she assumed would have to be pried out of her by a therapist.

Right as Shelby is nodding a little, and looking like she’s going to give up, Toni catches her eye, and speaks. “I was in foster care for most of my life. And I was also kind of a mean little kid.”

“Obviously, nothing’s changed,” Shelby says.

“Right, well, more along those lines, Martha has kind of always been my only friend,” Toni says. She fiddles with the shoelaces on her tennis shoes. “So obviously, it wasn’t, like, great. But Martha’s mom was really good to me, and towards the end of high school, I moved in with them.”

“That doesn’t sound like that long of a story,” Shelby muses.

“I left a lot out,” Toni says. She meets Shelby’s hesitant smile with one of her own, and sucks in a breath. “I _had_ parents. I can still remember them and everything. And they were good. It was good,” she adds. Toni huffs at herself. _Get your shit together, and make a coherent sentence so therapy time can be over_. “I just don’t want you to think they were the typical neglectful parents that let their kid go into foster care or whatever.”

“I would never,” Shelby says. Two months ago, it might have been mocking, but all that reads through Shelby’s soft gaze is kind curiosity.

“It was a car accident,” Toni says, nodding. “Which, you know, isn’t that big of a deal usually. Lots of kids have that happen, and their grandparents raise them or something.” She tightens her jaw. “The thing is, my parents weren’t supported by their family. Some kind of stupid Montague and Capulet shit.” Shelby stares at her. “You know, Romeo and Juliet?”

“Yeah, of course I know,” Shelby says. “I _did_ attend sophomore year English class.”

“Alright, alright,” Toni says, holding her hands up. “Anyway, because of of that, they eloped. And they never told their family about them, or me. And when they found out, they — well, I guess they just didn’t want me.”

The ending of the story should have been obvious, by Shelby frowns anyhow. “Oh.”

As uncomfortable as it is to be spilling her guts, it’s almost more uncomfortable to realize that she isn’t even _that_ uncomfortable. Hurrying them on, Toni just says, “When I say that I need basketball, I mean it. And when I say I have nothing, I mean it.”

“I get it,” Shelby says. Thinking back on Shelby’s unwavering dedication to her YouTube channel, Toni thinks Shelby actually might.

Hesitantly, she asks, “So, out of curiosity, how much do you make off of YouTube?”

“What, looking for a sugar daddy?” Shelby snorts.

Toni gapes at her. “What?”

“I’m joking,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know, not really that much. It’s not consistent, at least. If I have a sponsorship, it’s a lot at once, but it’s not a regular paycheck.”

“So why do you do it?” Toni asks. She cringes at her accidentally overly-harsh tone. Remembering they’re being nice to each other now, clarifies, “I mean, over a job or something?”

“I started when I was literally fourteen,” Shelby says, picking at her sock. “Which, now that I think on it, is probably way too young. But I was lonely.” She flashes a smile. “Talking to a camera isn’t a replacement for people, but it helped, I guess.” She falters. “Especially after… you know.”

“Becca,” Toni says. Wordlessly, Shelby nods, her hand coming up to the necklace around her neck automatically. “You never told me what happened to her.”

“No,” Shelby agrees. Something flashes in her eyes, and to Toni’s surprise, she realizes she’s seen that same look in her own. “I guess I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“If it helps, that’s why I haven’t told you about what went down with my ex,” Toni says, swallowing. “Regan was her name.” Eyes wide, she quickly adds, “ _Is_ her name. She’s not dead. Sorry.”

“You? Dangerous?” Shelby says, a wry little smile working its way onto her lips. “Please. Someone could poke you, and you’d fall over.”

“Well,” Toni coughs, “that’s kind of what happened.” Shelby’s eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t say anything. “Maybe someday we can confess all our sins to each other at the same time or something.”

“Sounds like a real blast,” Shelby snorts. She peeks up at Toni through her lashes, and when Toni just smiles at her, she winks. “It’s a date.”

Considering her very public poor handling of the whole ‘sharing a bed’ situation, Toni thinks she gets through going to sleep pretty well. They slide under the covers at the same time, like usual, each girl pointedly on their own side. It’s fine. It’s cool. Toni can feel the weight of Shelby on the other side, and she can hear her breathing _much_ closer, and if she stretched out her arm, they’d touch, but it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Until Shelby falls asleep within five minutes, and pretty much immediately, rolls over towards Toni.

In the end, Toni is flat on her back in corpse position, and Shelby is on her stomach with her right hand thrown over Toni’s waist, her right leg folded over Toni’s thighs, and her head tucked under the crook of Toni’s neck.

_Alright, fuck_ , Toni thinks.

The thing is, as much as she’s totally freaking out, she has to admit that it’s pretty comfortable. Not that she’s touch-starved or anything — she totally is —, but it has been a very long time since she fell asleep next to anybody like this.

Settling back into the mattress, Toni slowly tugs her right arm out from under Shelby, and slings it around her shoulder. _You know_ , she thinks, _like a bro. Like a dude-bro-friend._

She almost believes it until she takes one peek downwards. Shelby’s hair is tossed into a messy bun, and not only does it look incredibly soft, but Toni can feel the way it _is_ like silk where it brushes her cheek. The slope of her nose fits perfectly against Toni’s collarbone, and if Toni just leaned down an inch, she could kiss the top of her head.

_Stop being weird_ , she chants. _Stop being weird, and go to sleep. Stop being weird, and go to sleep. Stop being weird, and go to sleep._

Once she bullies herself into relaxing, she finds that sleep comes easily and naturally. Toni doesn’t believe in any of that soulmate crap, but she _does_ think about how Shelby just seems to fit with her like they were made for each other.

_Fucking sappy piece of shit_ , she thinks, and with one more deep breath, she’s out.

When she wakes, Shelby is gone.

Which, thank God, because if there’s anything worse than an awkward morning after with a hook-up, it’s an awkward morning after with your roommate who you’re fake-dating, but also have a crush on.

She wants to take her time letting herself wake up, but Shelby’s shitty early mornings at school have apparently conditioned her body to do the same, because she starts getting restless and bored within a couple minutes.  Hurrying through getting dressed, Toni briefly wonders what she’s going to find when she gets downstairs. She could have never predicted she’d walk into Martha and Bernice sitting at the table with Shelby cooking what looks like sixteen courses.

“Hey,” Toni says. Three heads turn.

“Toni,” Bernice greets.

“Shelby’s making breakfast,” Martha says unnecessarily.

“It’s the least I could do,” Shelby says, sending Bernice an award-winning smile. She turns to Toni, and though her smile doesn’t fade, her eyes soften. “Good mornin’, Punxsutawney.”

“Excuse me?” Toni says. 

“Like the groundhog,” Shelby says, gesturing a little with her spatula. Toni just blinks at her. “The groundhog,” she repeats. “You know, that whole thing where if he sees his shadow it’s six more weeks of winter?”

“He has a name?” Toni says, crossing over to the sink. “Punky —“

“Punxsutawney,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. “His full name is Punxsutawney Phil, actually.”

In her peripheral, Toni sees something being waved at her. She looks down. It’s a knife. “What, finally murdering me?”

“Be useful, and cut this fruit,” Shelby says, pushing a cutting board in her direction, There’s an assortment that already looks like it’s been washed, and Toni gets started on an apple.

“Toni doing what you say?” Bernice muses. “I always kind of thought she was allergic to authority.” The audacity of Bernice to imply that Shelby is _authority_ isn’t lost on Toni, who turns, mouth open. Before she can say anything, Bernice says, “Speaking of food, I was hoping you two could run to the grocery store today.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Shelby says. Toni rolls her eyes.

“I just need a few more things for Thanksgiving,” Bernice says, smiling. “We do a combination of traditional Thanksgiving foods, and some Native dishes. When there’s more people, I like to go all out, but it’ll be a small spread this year.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” Shelby says earnestly.

It takes a little while to actually get going. Along with being an impeccable cook, Shelby is apparently also a delight to be around, but eventually Toni drags her upstairs to get ready, and then back down through the front door before Bernice can rope her into another two-hour long conversation.

“Sorry,” Toni says, breathlessly letting go of her arm. “Clearly, Bernice is very happy to have you.”

“She is _so_ nice,” Shelby says as they come up to the car.

Coming from any one else, it might be sarcastic in nature, but Shelby is two-hundred percent genuine. “She is,” Toni agrees. “Best second-mom ever.”

Somehow, Shelby convinces Toni to let her drive. Somehow, they arrive in one piece. Somehow, Toni gets coerced into pushing the cart (Shelby is _not_ coerced into playing grocery basketball). Somehow, she gets sent off to find an ingredient like she’s a twelve-year-old again.

“You can leave the cart,” Shelby says, nodding towards it. “I’m waiting for Bernice to text me back about whether she wants dark or light brown sugar.”

“You have her _number_?” Toni demands.

“What can I say?” Shelby smirks, “I’m a great fake-girlfriend.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Toni mutters. She starts heading off towards the next aisle over.

“Remember to get mini-marshmallows, not regular!” she hears Shelby call from behind her.

Checking to see if Martha texted her to pick up anything else, she rounds the corner without looking, and is saved from crashing into a total stranger only by a combination of her peripheral vision and her reflexes.

“Oh, shit,” she says, stumbling backwards. “I’m so s —“

Staring back at her is Regan, because of course it is. She smiles hesitantly. “Hi.”

“Okay,” Toni says, and then, “I mean, ‘hi.’ Sorry.”

There’s an awkward pause, as is customary when you run into your ex. Toni hopes she’s hiding the fact that she’s absolutely reeling inside, but if the panic clearly written across Regan’s face is any indication, she doesn’t think she’s doing a very good job of it either.

Eventually, Regan offers an olive branch, and says, “You here for Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah,” Toni says, nodding vigorously. “Marty and I go to the same school, so we came back together.”

“I heard you got signed for UCLA,” Regan says. Her eyebrows furrow. “I mean, that’s awesome, but, like, I thought you couldn’t play basketball anymore.”

“Not couldn’t, _shouldn’t_ ,” Toni corrects, as if that’s any better.

“Oh.” Regan doesn’t look like she knows what to say about that. Toni doesn’t blame her.

And then, because Toni’s day just couldn’t get any worse, around the corner comes the woman Toni instantly recognizes as Regan’s mom. She’s staring down at the box in her hand and saying, “Regan, do you think —“ she looks up. “Toni Shalifoe.”

“Yeah,” Toni says, trying not to wince. “Hi.”

The silence that follows is so awkwardly silent as they all stare at each other that Toni wonders if it’s unreasonable to request she get hit on the head again hard enough she forgets it ever happened.

“Toni just telling me about UCLA,” Regan says. She looks between them, eyes flitting back and forth like she’s following a tennis match. “She plays basketball there.”

“Ah,” Regan’s mom says, her tone clipped. “So, I see everything worked out for you.”

“Uh, I guess?” Toni says, resisting the urge to scratch at the back of her neck.

“Well,” Regan’s mom says, in a way that hints she’s about to drop a bomb on them, “I really hope you’re not coming back here with the intentions or hopes of winning my daughter back.”

“Mom…” Regan starts.

“Because I meant what I said the last time I saw you,” her mom presses on. She attempts to glare hard enough to knock Toni down a peg, but Toni has long since grown immune to glares that don’t come from Martha or Bernice, so it’s highly ineffective. Even still, her words still sting when she says, “Stay away from her.”

“Jesus, _mom_ ,” Regan groans as Toni says, “Excuse me?”

“Ignore her,” Regan says, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t know what position you think you’re in to talk to me like that,” Toni says, feeling her jaw tighten, “but don’t think for one second that you have any control over the things I do.”

“Someone should,” Regan’s mom mutters.

“Everything didn’t just, ‘work out for me,’ okay?” Toni says, glaring right back. “I have my shit I’ll deal with forever, and there’s nothing I can do about that, so I moved on. You should try it sometime.”

“You’re a dangerous person, Toni,” Regan’s mom says. “Forgive me for being concerned about you coming back into my daughter’s life.”

“Oh, my God,” Toni says, staring at her incredulously. “I came back for _Thanksgiving_ with my _sister_ , and I _happened_ to run into Regan in a _public_ grocery store.” She resists the urge to go blatant with her sarcastic mocking, but she doesn’t think she was that successful as Regan’s mom’s face sours when she says, “I’d hardly consider that ‘coming back into her life.’”

Regan’s mom opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, the cheery ring of a bright Southern drawl sings out from behind them. Toni doesn’t think she’s ever been more grateful to hear that annoying accent in her entire life.

“Toni!” Shelby calls, ignoring the palpable tension as she skips up. “Did you find the marshmallows?”

“Uh, no,” Toni says, staring down Regan’s mom. “I got held up.”

“No worries,” Shelby says, and Toni turns, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the way her accent has suddenly doubled in thickness. “I am _always_ waitin’ on this one in the grocery store, but you know what they say, God teaches you patience where He can.”

“Uh-huh,” Regan says, eyebrows furrowed in something between confusion and amusement.

“And you are?” Regan’s mom asks, looking equally as scandalized.

“Oh, my name is Shelby,” she says, thrusting out a hand. Regan’s mom takes it like it might explode. “I’m Toni’s roommate at college.” She lets off a sly little smile. “And I don’t know what I did for the Good Lord to bless me with such a saintly, faithful, and Christ-like person, but Toni is my girlfriend too.”

“I’m sorry?” Regan’s mom says.

“Christ-like?” Regan coughs.

“Mhm!” Toni says, nodding vigorously. “God is good.”

“Yes, He is,” Shelby practically moans, “We love others best when we love God most.” She winks. “And, golly, do _we_ love God.”

“So, to clarify,” Regan starts, “you’re a girl friend, like a friend that’s a girl?”

“Oh, no, we’re dating,” Shelby says, furrowing her eyebrows and looking forward as if the idea they’d _just_ be friends is absolutely appalling. “By the grace of God, He brought Toni into my life, and the lessons we have taught each other do nothing but allow us to walk further in His eternal glory, and to submit to both His guidance, as well as to His call on our lives.”

Unsurprisingly, there’s a pause.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Regan says. She’s looking around like she’s wondering if anyone else is witnessing whatever the fuck is going on. “But I’m happy for you?”

“Amen,” Toni says.

“Alright, well, Jesus may have died for us, but _I_ would die for some _marshmallows_ ,” Shelby chuckles, sporting a pageant worthy smile. She laces her fingers through Toni’s. “Let’s go ahead and go ahead with shopping, huh?”

Flashing what she hopes is an apologetic smile, Toni allows herself to be lead off. As soon as she thinks they’re out of earshot, she mutters, “Oh, should we go ahead, or should we go ahead?”

“Shut up, and you’re welcome,” Shelby sings, her accent fading back into the faint drawl that has long since become comforting, as much as Toni hates to admit it.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever used my real name,” Toni comments as they swing around the corner.

“Don’t get used to it, Tapas,” Shelby says.

“So, was that, like, your alter-ego?” Toni wonders aloud.

Wiggling her eyebrows, Shelby says, “That was me in high school.”

“You’re kidding,” Toni says. “Like, un-ironically?”

“Mhm,” Shelby says. “Well, up until the end of my junior year.” She shrugs. “Now, Bible-Shelby just comes out when I need her.”

“If I had known, I would have had Bible-Shelby meet Bernice just to fuck with her,” Toni mutters.

The laugh that rings out brings a smile to Toni’s lips before she even realizes it. Shaking her head, Shelby just gives her a little smirk, and says, “Speaking of, let’s finish up here and get back before Bernice thinks we stopped somewhere for a quickie.”

So maybe they hold hands for the rest of the shopping trip, but that’s just because Toni brings up a very good point that if they run into Regan and her mom again, they should play the part.

Maybe it’s a coincidence, or maybe Shelby knows just when to squeezes her hand a little if she can tell Toni is thinking about their confrontation. When she distracts her with offering to play grocery basketball, and every time she cheers for Toni making it into the cart as if it wasn’t a toss from three feet away, maybe the urge to kiss her grows a little stronger.

And maybe, though it could just be wishful thinking, but Toni thinks Shelby would let her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't figure out how to make the first chapter notes go away but whateverrrr. let's get jazzed bc things are picking up!! end game soon i promise <3
> 
> thank u for reading, and thank u for all the comments!
> 
> quinnfebrey on tumblr, come chat!


	5. five

The second night reveals that Shelby is not just a one-time offender, she is a serial cuddler. As soon as she passes out, she’s rolling over and clinging to Toni like she’s a stuffed animal. Which, from the way she curls around her pillow at school, Toni probably should have seen coming.

In all honesty, Toni isn’t sure whether she’s supposed to stop it or not, but if she’s allowing herself to go there, she knows it’s been helping her sleep well. Shelby is basically like a living, weighted blanket or something.

Not to mention, it clearly isn’t hurting _Shelby’s_ sleep, so it’s only polite for her to just let it happen, right? Why should she deny her friend a good night’s sleep?

As she’s drifting off, she wonders when her brain started calling Shelby a friend.

Halfway through the night, she wakes with a jostle of the bed. Briefly, she hears a slow, low drawl saying, “Just getting some water. Go on back to sleep,” and then her eyes are fluttering shut again. She regains consciousness again with the returning weight of a body next to her, and her right arm instinctively finds its perch around her when Shelby slides under the covers and into Toni’s side again.

When she wakes for real, Shelby is gone. She wonders if it was a dream.

The kitchen scene unfolding upon her when she finally heads down is a lot like the one from the day before. Instead of making breakfast, though, it’s all hands on deck for Thanksgiving meal prep.

“Morning,” she says, swiping at one of the apple slices Martha is cutting.

“Excuse me,” Martha says, while making no attempts to stop her.

“I’m hungry,” Toni complains.

“There’s cereal,” Bernice says, swatting at her hand as she reaches for another. “This is for the pies. And don’t eat too much for breakfast, because we’re having a full meal tonight.”

Dutifully, Toni hunts for food elsewhere, and is at the sink rinsing a pear off when she feels two hands snake around her waist. _Someone's_ hips are pressed flush with hers, and her mind instantly jumps to a horror movie, but with a, “Here,” she turns slightly to see Shelby feeding her an apple slice. “One more.”

As she slowly reaches out to take it with her teeth, she wonders if it’s a little too much like their little pill extravaganza to be decent for the middle of the kitchen, but Martha and Bernice are poring over a recipe, and don’t even look up.

“Thanks,” Toni says around a crunch.

“Anything for my girlfriend,” Shelby says, wiggling her eyebrows. She steps back, barely sparing Toni a second glance, and retreats to sit at the table with Martha.

Bernice must be satisfied with her instructions, because she leaves the two of them, and starts to approach Toni in a way that makes her feel a lot like prey being stalked. “Are you busy right now?”

She half-wonders if Bernice is going to try to put her to work, but as soon as she’s given a meaningful look when Bernice then says she’s going to go for a walk, Toni knows what’s coming. Honestly, Toni should have known better to think she could hide _anything_ from Bernice.

“Pray for me,” she mumbles to Shelby.

Shelby barely looks up from where she’s gutting pumpkins with Martha. “We’ll see.”

Shaking her head, Toni slings on her coat, and follows Bernice down the sidewalk. Despite the sun being out, the air still bites her nose, and she wonders if she could persuade Bernice to have their little heart-to-heart inside or something.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Bernice says innocently.

Toni kicks a rock. “Did the school call you or something?”

“Martha told me,” Bernice says.

“That snake,” Toni mutters. It’s a barely there insult, and they both know it. Bernice just smiles a little, waiting for Toni to say something. After a little deliberation, she says, “It’s not that big of a deal. The ol’ noggin doesn’t even hurt anymore. I’m fine already.”

“And the next time?” Bernice asks, eyebrow raised. “Are you going to be fine then too?”

“I’ll be more careful,” Toni offers. She shoves her hands into her pockets, catching in her peripheral the way Bernice sighs. “What? I will.”

“You’re a D1 collegiate basketball player with a competitive streak,” Bernice points out. She gestures for them to make a right. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to be careful.”

“I can’t just stop playing,” Toni says.

“I never asked you to,” Bernice shrugs. Toni narrows her eyes because this is starting to feel a lot like some reverse psychology shit. Reading what it probably a very blatant expression, Bernice holds her hands up. “I’m serious. I have always let you and Martha make your own decisions.”

“Even if you think we’re wrong,” Toni adds for her.

“Especially then,” Bernice says. It’s quiet as they continue down the street. Ordinarily, the silence might be comforting, but now it’s just nerve-racking because she can tell Bernice is sorting through what to say. Eventually she comes up with, “I will only say that I think you have a skewed perception of the right thing.”

“Isn’t that just another way of telling me I’m wrong?” Toni asks.

Bernice flashes a smile. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She looks up at the sky, as if searching for a script of what to say, and then her eyes land back on Toni. “You don’t remember a lot of what happened. Before, during, or after. And I think you don’t understand how serious it was.”

“Was,” Toni repeats, swallowing thickly. “As in, not serious anymore.”

The smile Bernice gives her next is almost pitiful. “You know that’s not how brain injuries work.” 

Toni doesn’t say anything. She knows Bernice is right.

Deeper down, she knows she will retire sometime in the next four years. She certainly won’t make it to the professional leagues, that’s for sure. One elbow to her skull while jumping up, one tumble during practice. Hell, one time a teammate tackled her to celebrate something, and she thought she was going to die.

“Look,” she starts, “can we just enjoy Thanksgiving?”

“Since when do you do that?” Bernice chuckles.

“You know what I mean,” Toni says, tossing her a look. “I don’t — I mean, I hear you, okay? Loud and clear.”

“Okay,” Bernice says.

But then Toni sucks in a breath, because even though she doesn’t remember on a conscious level everything that happened, she can tell her body still does. “Tell me again,” Toni says quietly. “About it being serious.”

Bernice looks at her like she’s not sure if she should. Slowly, she says, “T, we weren’t sure if you would even wake up.”

All she can do is make a little noise, and squeeze her hands into fists until they stop trembling. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. 

“And even if you did,” Bernice says, “we had no idea what that would look like.” She throws her hands up, and then lets them fall to her sides. “I mean, Hell, Toni. You had to relearn how to read, how to write. It is genuinely a miracle you basically recovered completely.”

“Maybe God is real after all,” Toni mumbles. Bernice doesn’t seem to think that’s very funny, so she takes a second to unclench her jaw, then take a few deep breaths. “I know you think I rushed into going to college, but I — they wanted me. And I didn’t want to get left behind, or whatever.”

“I understand why you wanted to go. I don’t blame you. However, I _do_ blame the college for _allowing_ you,” Bernice says, shaking her head. “And I blame your high school coach for helping you hide all of it from them.”

“ _I’m_ the one who asked her to do that,” Toni says.

Any further comments are cut off by a swift shake of the head. “She should have known better.” It’s quiet as she nods her head over her left shoulder, and turns to head back. “At the risk of sounding condescending,” Bernice starts, “but it shouldn’t have been on you to make those decisions.”

“They’re done, though,” Toni says. “Might as well make the most of it.”

Biting her lip, as if trying to stop her own words, she then seems to cave on herself, and says, “I know you think basketball is all you have.” She catches Toni’s gaze in the way she’s so good at, and in the way Toni wishes she wouldn’t. “But it’s not.”

“It kind of is, though,” she mumbles. She exhales, a puff of breath visible for a second, and then dissipating. She exhales again, and watches this one until it’s gone.

“Maybe because you don’t give any attention or time to anything else,” Bernice says, one deep breath short of rolling her eyes. “You have other interests. Have you ever considered that it’s time to think about them?”

The answer is no, and not to be dramatic, but Toni would rather die than do any of those things. In the end, she says, “Yeah, maybe.”

Bernice seems to read between the lines pretty quickly, because she just laughs, and slings an arm around Toni’s shoulder. “Alright, c’mon. Like you said. Let’s just enjoy Thanksgiving, huh?”

“You’re making pecan pie, right?” Toni asks.

“Of course,” Bernice says, rolling her eyes. She tilts her head to the side. “Although, I’d wager it’ll be Shelby making it. She’s a helpful one.”

Considering Shelby with Toni has mostly just been a thorn in her side, she doesn’t say much besides, “She is definitely very enthusiastic.”

Toni really thinks that’s the end of horrible conversations for the day, given that it _is_ Thanksgiving, and she’s only wronged so many people, but the universe apparently doesn’t have the same plans. She’s halfway through trying to convince Shelby that cinnamon is the same thing as cloves when she gets a text.

**Unknown (612-555-1432)**

**[1:16 PM]:** Your girlfriend is cheating on you.

So, like, weird, right?

Toni is wholly unprepared for a situation like this. Letting her mind wander sends her in about fifty different directions, and they range anywhere from an innocent wrong number to a pimp trying to trick her into being trafficked. Eventually, she decides honesty is the best policy, and types out a reply.

**[1:19 PM]:** i don’t have a girlfriend

The reply is instant.

**[1:19 PM]:** I fucking knew it

Ah, fuck.

**[1:20 PM]:** Regan?

**[1:21 PM]:** You deleted my number?  
 **[1:21 PM]:** Rude  
 **[1:22 PM]:** Also I’m outside

**[1:22 PM]:**??

Scrambling up, Toni practically catapults the mixing bowl off the table as she slides over to the door. Sure enough, Regan is leaned against the fence post, staring between her phone and the front door.

Toni sighs. She’s about had enough of going outside for the day, but she grabs her coat, and stomps down the porch.

“Hey,” Regan calls.

“Is this the best plan you could come up with?” Toni calls back. “You luring me outside so your mom can snipe me from the bushes?”

“Oh, stop,” Regan says, rolling her eyes. She gives Toni a once over. “You look good.”

“Don’t let your mom hear you say that,” Toni says, arching an eyebrow.

“Can you shut up about my mom?” Regan says, but there’s no bite to her tone. She grins, bumping a shoulder with Toni like they’re buddies or something. “What’s with the fake girlfriend act?”

“Convenience for both of us?” Toni says, shrugging. She looks back at the house, then nods towards the street. “C’mon, let’s take a walk before Bernice sees you.”

“What could be convenient about a fake relationship?” Regan laughs.

“She’s got shit with her family, I want to get Bernice off my back,” Toni says, leading them down the path when Regan doesn’t make any move to start walking. “What’s it to you?”

“Just wondering when you joined the Jesus Freak Circle,” Regan says, adjusting the scarf around her neck.

“Okay, she’s not like that for real,” Toni says. She pauses. “Well, she’s annoying and weird, but not in _that_ way.”

“Things are going well for you, then?” Regan says. Toni gives her a look she hopes is conveying something along the lines of, _Didn’t we do this yesterday?_ Regan gets the message cleanly, because she holds her hands up. “Hey, I mean for real. My mom’s not here, no fake girlfriend.”

“Things are… alright,” Toni says slowly. “I don’t know. It’s whatever.” They _did_ date pretty seriously, so Regan can see right through her poorly-timed deflection, but she just lets Toni say, “And you?”

Turning to face the direction they’re going, Regan tugs on the two ends of her scarf as if to keep herself on the ground. “I’m glad I took a gap year.” She looks down at her feet. “I’ve been doing a lot of therapy, and that’s helped.” She squints under the sun, but turns to meet Toni’s eyes. “You ever thought about that?”

“I did, like, six months of physical therapy,” Toni says, furrowing her eyebrows.

Regan rolls her eyes. “No, dummy. Like, therapy for your brain. Talking about your feelings and shit?”

Genuinely, she can’t think of anything worse, but in an attempt to be respectful, settles for asking, “Why?”

“Talk through what happened?” Regan says, shrugging. “I don’t know, I mean, my therapist thinks I developed, like, PTSD or something from it.”

“Oh, shit.” Toni doesn’t know what to say about that. She swallows down the way the sight of any blue truck makes her heart start racing, even though she was only ever told in vague detail what it actually looked like in real life. “Well, I don’t remember anything. So, I don’t really know what the point would be.”

“Yeah, but still,” Regan says. She eyes Toni’s face curiously, like she’s trying to pick her apart.

“What, did Bernice put you up to this?” Toni asks warily.

The sigh that comes from Regan is so heavy it’s a miracle she has any air in her lungs left to say, “Now methinks you _need_ to go to work on your paranoia.”

“I’m serious,” Toni says, furrowing her eyebrows. “She was always trying to get me to talk to someone.”

“No, she didn’t ‘put me up to this,’” Regan says. Her air quotes are complete with an eye roll. “I’m just trying to help you out, okay? Just think about it.”

It’s another battle she won’t win, so she nods. “I will.”

“Alright,” Regan says, seemingly satisfied.

They walk in an easy silence for a bit, and Toni remembers why they even dated in the first place. Meaning, they enjoy spending time with each other.

The question she’s been wanting to ask has been itching at the back of her throat, and though she knows it’ll send them down the path she’s been avoiding, she can’t help herself. “So, are you dating anyone or something?” Regan turns to look at her. “Okay, no. I’m not asking like _that_. No, _we—_ ” she gestures between them “—are done.”

“Let a girl down easy,” Regan says, feigning offense. She shakes her head. “Single. I don’t have time for that. Trying to work out what I’m going to do for school next year, and get my life back on track.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You?”

“You met my fake-girlfriend yesterday, so you mean besides that?” Toni asks.

“Fair enough,” Regan says. She examines her face again, although this time she’s laughing at Toni under the surface.

“What?” Toni sighs.

“You wish your fake-girlfriend was your real-girlfriend, huh?” Regan says. An objection is on the tip of Toni’s tongue, but Regan cuts her off. “Please, you couldn’t hide your feelings if you tried.”

This must be true because Toni _has_ tried.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. Maybe,” she allows. “Like, look. I haven’t really thought about it seriously. Two months ago I couldn’t stand her, now she’s visiting my family for Thanksgiving.”

“I think you skipped a couple steps,” Regan observes.

“Thanks,” Toni says. There’s a stupid little smile on her face she can’t wipe off, and she knows Regan knows what it means, because Regan used to be the subject of it. “We really _are_ roommates, and I don’t know, I guess she’s been growing on me.” She pauses. “Like a fungus, or whatever.”

“Right,” Regan laughs. She starts steering them back towards the Blackburn’s. “Well, I’d say she feels the same.”

Toni eyes her warily. “What makes you say that?”

“The way she looks at you,” Regan says, like it’s obvious. “All starry-eyed and shit.” She coughs a little. “I mean, I’d know, right? I used to look at you like that too.” They sit on that for a second. Then, “Shit, that was kind of supposed to be a joke.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Toni says.

Regan waves her off dismissively. “You’ve said that like thirty-million times. You’re good, okay?”

“Yeah, but I mean it this time,” Toni says. Regan arches an eyebrow. “I mean, I meant it before too, but I really mean it. I’m sorry I made my shit your shit, and I’m sorry it’s had such an effect on your life and stuff. It’s not fair to you.”

“No, but…” Regan trails off. “I guess you’re kind of going through it too, right? I’m not going to, like, try and get revenge on you or anything.”

“No, just your mom is,” Toni says sourly. Regan gives her a look. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re not her.” She sighs. “My ex’s mom hates me, my current fake-girlfriend’s mom is a Bible-thumping homophobe. Great track record.”

“Bernice loves you,” Regan says, holding up a hand. “You could always date Martha.”

“Gross,” Toni says. She juts a finger out. “Never say that again.”

It’s quiet again, but not filled with the nervous energy from when the walk first started. Regan keeps sneaking little sideways glances at her. “Hey, don’t be a stranger, okay? You have my number again, so use it.”

“Really?” Toni asks skeptically.

“Yes, really,” Regan laughs. “Look, we weren’t right for each other for a lot of different reasons. Doesn’t mean there weren’t good ones for why I dated you in the first place.” They’ve reached the fence post, and Regan’s hand comes out to touch her elbow. “You’re a good person, Toni. I mean that.”

Looking down at the ground, Toni lets out a sort of hesitant chuckle. “Sort of thought you hated me this whole time.”

“Oh, come here,” Regan says, pulling Toni into a hug. The way to feels to fall into Regan’s arms is easy and familiar. Most of all, while it’s as comforting as any hug is, it doesn’t make Toni feel the same way it used to. In a way, that’s comfort in itself. She sighs into it as Regan says into the nape of her neck, “Get your girl, okay?”

“We’ll see,” Toni manages to get out as they pull away. She steps towards the house, offering back one last smile. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Regan furrows her eyebrows. “Did Toni Shalifoe just wish me a Happy Thanksgiving?” She whistles. “The white girl really _did_ get to you.”

“Shut up,” Toni mumbles, but there’s a trace of a grin still on her lips when she slips back through the front door. Hanging up her coat, she pretends to not notice the way all of them are eyeing her.

“Who was that?” Bernice asks, as if she doesn’t obviously already know.

Toni throws her a look. “Regan came by. To apologize for her mom, and have a better talk.”

“That’s nice,” Bernice says. She looks up with a hesitant smile, as if to say, _Right?_

“Yeah, it was,” Toni says. “Closure and all that, I guess. I think we’re gonna try and be friends.”

“That’s very mature of you,” Martha says. The look of absolute surprise is a little overkill. Toni is almost offended.

“Yeah, and I didn’t even need to go to therapy for that,” Toni says, giving Bernice another pointed look.

“Therapy is a good idea for _everyone_ ,” she says, then passes her a pile of corn. “Shuck these, and be useful.” She pauses. “Or do I need to go through Shelby if I want you to do something?”

“Don’t be mean,” Toni pouts, taking the plate. “You know fully well you’re the only person I listen to.” She sits at the table, and clocks in right away that Shelby is sporting something along the lines of amusement and pain. Like, a marriage of the two. Or a divorce. She lets Martha bring up the background noise as she sings along to the radio and says, “Hey, you okay?”

“Huh?” Shelby looks up quickly. She flashes a smile. “Yeah, of course. Glad everything has worked out with you two.”

“Me too,” she says, feeling incredibly pleased with herself. She starts on one ear of corn. “You know, I never got why people were all about closure and shit, but it’s not bad.”

“I bet,” Shelby says.

Toni’s fingers still as she sort of remembers the Becca thing. Well, what she knows of it anyway, which is really only that Becca is dead, and also an ex, but also not. “Um…”

Shelby seems to follow her train of thought, because she looks up, wide eyes practically begging Toni into silence. “It’s okay,” she says quickly. “I’m happy for you, I really am.”

“Okay,” Toni says. She nods to where Shelby is mixing spices. “I can take over for you if you want to go catch up with Dot or something.”

She tries for casual, but it doesn’t really work. Still, Shelby throws her a grateful look, nods vigorously, and grabs her phone on her way out of the room.

Bernice watches her go. Maybe she picks up on the unnecessary rush in her steps, or maybe she got a good look at Shelby’s ‘I’m a moment from a breakdown’ face because she looks back at Toni as soon as Shelby is out of the room. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” Toni says, “just forgot to wish her friends happy Thanksgiving.”

Bernice seems to accept this answer, and when Shelby returns with a smile on her face not unlike the ones before, they drop it.

If there’s one thing Toni _does_ like about Thanksgiving, it’s the copious amounts of food, and the fact that she gets to be here with her little family. And, strangely, she finds she doesn’t even mind Shelby’s presence. She’s starting to get the feeling that’s a common occurrence nowadays.

“Should we go around and say what we’re thankful for?” Martha suggests.

It sounds like the last thing Toni wants to do, because the idea just gives her flashbacks to those stupid icebreakers they had to do in elementary school. Much to her surprise, though, Shelby pipes up.

“I’ll go,” she says a little nervously. When Martha nods vigorously, she says, “Well, I’m thankful to be here with y’all.” Her eyes travel around, and if they hang on Toni’s for just a second longer when she says, “All of you,” maybe it’s wishful thinking. She fidgets with her glass. “I don’t have the best relationship with my parents, so. I had a lot of fun, and it was great to meet you, Bernice, and it’s nice to be here this year is all.”

“You’re welcome any time,” Bernice says warmly.

And when they toast and move on to Martha, Toni wonders if it would be outrageous for her to suggest Shelby come back for Christmas, too.

The evening winds down with Martha tapping out first, and Toni lounging at the kitchen table as she watches Shelby and Bernice start to try and put the rest of the food into containers. She almost wants to get up and help, but remembering that she’s pretty sure she actually ate a whole pie, she doesn’t think the reincarnation of that pie all over the leftovers would be a welcome event.

Eventually, Bernice shoos them out, saying she’ll finish up in the morning. Heading up the stores, Shelby immediately flops onto the bed. She groans. “I’m so full.”

“ _You’re_ full?” Toni says sleepily. “I ate, like, the equivalent of a whole pie.”

“Doesn’t count,” Shelby says. “You’re an athelte.”

“Bullshit,” Toni mutters.

Shelby shrugs wordlessly. And then they’re just lying down on the bed, sufficiently food-coma’d. It’s quiet, because Toni thinks if she says anything else she might actually vomit she’s so full, and Shelby seems to be in the same boat.

Once she’s apparently digested enough to not want to puke as soon as she moves, Shelby says, “So, is your head really okay?”

Toni stiffens. “Why do you ask?”

A sideways glance tells her Shelby is already looking at her, green eyes wide and curious as ever. She worries her lower lip between her teeth, and then says, “I heard Martha and Bernice talking.”

“And?” Toni asks, trying to keep her tone level. “What did they say?”

Shelby shrugs as best she can from her lying down position. “Just that they’re extremely scared of what’ll happen if you hit your head again.” She cracks a smile. “Martha wanted to put a helmet on you.”

Sighing, Toni fixes her eyes back onto the ceiling. “Yeah, well, I’m at risk and stuff. I told you that.”

“They sounded _really_ worried,” Shelby presses.

The huff that escapes her is mostly involuntary, and Shelby is the picture of innocence when Toni lets her head fall to the right again. “You are _so_ not subtle.”

“Guess not.” Shelby’s shrug is completely unabashed, which is equally as annoying as it is sort of something Toni respects.

She closes her eyes, trying to conjure up _any_ memory she can, but just like always, comes up totally blank. The first thing she can even remember is Martha’s face standing over her hospital bed, and then the beeping. God, all that incessant beeping, day in and day out, it just never —

“It was, uh, pretty bad,” Toni says quickly, cutting off her own train of thought. She swallows. “Maybe I was understating when I told you it was a concussion.”

“How bad?” Shelby asks, but this time her tone is soft and coaxing.

She wets her lips. “Well, I lost consciousness.”

Shelby doesn’t even falter when their eyes meet again. “For how long?”

“Three weeks?” Toni tries to ease her words with a humorless chuckle, but it doesn’t seem to do much, because Shelby’s eyes widen almost comically. “You know, give or take.”

“Jesus,” Shelby breathes. “I mean, God. That’s, like, pretty bad.”

“No need to rub it in,” Toni says sourly. Shelby’s eyes widen. “I’m kidding.”

“Please, Red Delicious, you need to work on your humor,” Shelby grumbles. 

“What the hell is a Red Delicious?” Toni yawns, suddenly overcome with how goddamn exhausted she is.

“It’s the worst kind of apple,” Shelby says. “Flavorless, bad texture, looks like it could be good on the outside, but ends up just making you regret choosing it.”

Miffed, Toni says, “I choose to latch onto the fact that you think I look like I could be good.”

Shelby gives a little chuckle at that, but it fades quickly. “So, I don’t — I mean, I don’t know —“

“— It’s okay,” she interrupts gently. She tentatively offers eye contact. “Maybe one day you’ll get the full story.” It’s not much of a conversation ender, but she flashes a smile anyhow, and she hopes that it is a little less distorted than the ones she’s been offering throughout the conversation.

Luckily, Shelby gives a little nod, turning to face the ceiling again. She yawns. “I’m fucking tired.”

“We have to drive tomorrow,” Toni reminds her. She pauses. “Well, _we_ as in me and Martha. You… not so much.”

“It’s _my_ car,” Shelby complains.

“Hey, do you really wanna risk further injuring my permanent brain damage?” Toni asks, eyebrows raised.

“That’s not funny,” Shelby says, frowning

“I thought it was pretty good,” Toni mumbles. She sighs. “No? Fine, I’ll work on it.”

“Well, don’t think too hard,” Shelby says, yawning again. “You know, because of the brain damage?” Toni just scoffs at her, but her grin is wide enough to match Shelby’s. They lie there for a few more minutes, and then Toni feels a hand reach to wack her. “Turn off the light.”

“Ow,” Toni complains, “and no, you do it.”

“Why?” Shelby huffs.

“You’re the guest,” Toni says.

Shelby turns over to look at her. “That makes no sense.” She nods over to the light switch. “Besides, you’re closer.”

“I’m not turning off the light,” Toni says, shaking her head.

“Don’t you, like, have to do what I say?” Shelby says. “Isn’t that what Bernice said?”

Toni opens one eye. “Excuse me?”

“She called me authority,” Shelby says rather proudly.

“Uh, I think she said that _she_ thinks you’re authority. Or that _you_ think you are.” Toni frowns, then says, “Or whatever.”

Reasoning with this, Shelby says, “Well, if it’s two against one, it must be true.”

“Uh, no,” Toni says. She eyes Shelby up and down. “You? Authority? No, you’re so…” she searches for a word, but it doesn’t come. For some reason, her brain lands on, “Gentle.”

“What?” Shelby looks too amused for her own good. “Stereotyping doesn’t look good on you, Pushpin.” When Toni looks like she’s serious, she actually scoffs. “Really? You think I force-fed you medication because I’m ‘gentle’? What does that even mean?”

“Hey,” Toni objects. “I _willingly_ was force-fed that medication.”

“Sounds like you’re the gentle one then,” Shelby counters, eyebrows raised. Then it’s her turn to look Toni up and down, and Toni tries not to squirm. “I don’t think I’ve been ‘gentle’ since I dated boys.”

And for what, Toni doesn’t know, but she says, “Prove it.”

The laugh that comes out of Shelby is equal parts surprised, amused, and curious. “I’m not going to defile you in your childhood bedroom, Tic-Tac.” Then she takes a pause, like she’s actually considering it. “But maybe someday. Give you the whole girlfriend experience, ya know?”

It’s starting to feel a lot like a conversation she wishes they weren’t having while lying next to each other in a bed they’re going to be sharing for the rest of the night. Cheeks heating up, Toni tries to come up with one single coherent thing to say.

“I don’t think topping me is part of the _fake_ -girlfriend experience,” she points out.

“Well, you’re welcome to fake _it_ ,” Shelby says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Now, turn off the light.”

“I’m not fucking turning off the light,” Toni groans. She pulls the pillow over her head.

“C’mon,” Shelby whines, poking her. “You’re literally closer by over fifty-percent.”

Toni tugs the pillow down. “That argument doesn’t work when fifty-percent means I’m only, like, three steps more towards it than you are.” She huffs. “You know, for all this discussion about the thing, we could have turned the light off already.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Shelby says, eyebrows arched.

“I’m waiting for _you_ ,” Toni growls.

“Turn off the light, Piglet.”

“I am not _._ Turning off. The fucking. Light.”

Toni turns off the light.

“Thank you, Guppy,” she can hear Shelby drawl out.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” Toni grumbles. She slides back under the covers, and can literally _feel_ Shelby about to say something. “Not a fucking word.”

Falling asleep this night is much like the past three. Toni waits, Shelby drifts off, and as soon as she’s out, she rolls over. This time, she starts to head towards the other side, but her subconscious catches her, and sends her back towards Toni.

Right arm slung across Toni’s waist, right leg bent up and hooked over her hips, head nestled under her head. By now Toni has perfected the art of being ready for it, and as soon as Shelby starts snuggling up, she lifts her arm so as not to disrupt her when she lays it around her shoulders.

And this time, she doesn’t over think it at all, she just tucks her own head down onto Shelby’s, and lets herself fall asleep.

Much to Toni’s surprise, Shelby isn’t gone when she wakes, but that’s because it’s Shelby that’s doing the waking. She blinks, and then blinks again, and wonders why it’s not as freakishly bright as it usually is in the morning.

“Rise ‘n shine,” Shelby sings.

Wondering why she doesn’t have an urge to pull her pillow over her face, Toni squints through the dim light over to the window, which is very open, and very black. “What in the hell kind of time is it?”

“English, please?” Shelby chuckles.

“You know what I mean,” Toni mumbles, hoping she’s right.

“It’s six,” Shelby says. “Hardly extremely early.” She brushes her hands together, and reaches down for a hair-tie. “Plus, Martha and I want to be on the road by eight, so up and at ‘em.”

“Hate you both,” Toni mutters. She wiggles herself into a vaguely upright position, and leans back on her elbows. Shelby is packing all her stuff, which really wasn’t that much, but is still in her sleep shorts and t-shirt. “Cute outfit.”

It’s _supposed_ to be an insult, but apparently her half-asleep and self-respecting homosexual brain doesn’t compute that, and Shelby just smiles at her. “Thanks! These shorts are _so_ comfy.”

“Glad to hear it. I’m gonna go back to sleep,” Toni says, already flopping back down.

“Ah-ah,” Shelby says, striding over. “Under no circumstances are you permitted to do so.”

“Sorry, mom, you’re not the boss of me,” Toni says, like a child. “Plus, _I_ got up to turn the light off last night.

Shelby stands with her hands on her hips, looking down at her. “So?”

“So, I don’t have to get up… ever,” Toni decides.

“Do I need to go get Martha?” Shelby says, looking highly unimpressed.

“Why is that always your solution?” Toni whines.

“Um, because it works,” Shelby says. They stare at each other. Shelby arches an eyebrow.

“God, fuck. Okay, fine,” Toni mutters, rolling herself out of bed in a way she hopes is a lot more graceful than it feels. “Fucking six in the morning? You guys are nuts.”

“Hey, we’ve got class in two days,” Shelby says, zipping up her little duffel bag. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back.”

Sadly this is true. Not to mention, Toni has basketball practice two afternoons from now, so she really _does_ have to get back as soon as possible. It’s the wrath she’ll face from her coach, not to mention the shit she’ll get from Alex, if she misses the first practice back that spurs her up and into the shower.

By the time she’s done, Shelby’s bags are packed, gone, and so is she. Toni dresses quickly, shoves her own clothes into her backpack in a manner she’s sure is much less organized than what Shelby did, and heads downstairs herself.

“How come there’s, like, _more_ clothes on the way back?” Toni complains. She holds up her stuffed bag. “It was _not_ this difficult to fit everything when I packed it the first time.”

“You could try folding them,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. She hands Toni a cup of coffee, and making sure Bernice is watching, plants a kiss right smack on her forehead.

Toni’s halfway between acting like she hates it, even though it kind of makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She then remembers she’s _supposed_ to act like she likes it because Shelby is, you know, her girlfriend. In the end, she decides on just saying, “I’m still mad at you for waking me up,” and sits next to Martha.

Bernice slides a piece of toast in front of her as Martha says, “You can sleep in the car. I went to bed early last night, so I’ll take first shift.”

“Have I told you I love you yet today?” Toni sighs. “I’ll buy you all the snacks you want on the way back. Promise.”

“What about me?” Shelby pouts.

“I’m the only snack you need,” Toni says, shrugging. 

Maybe it’s the fact that she ate her weight in the best food she’s ever had the night before, or maybe it’s the fact that accidentally sort of made up with Regan, or maybe it’s the fact that she honest-to-God cuddled in bed with her enemy-roommate-turned-fake-girlfriend-turned-crush-but-only-kind of, or maybe it’s just all of it together, but Toni is in great spirits on the drive back.

She lets Martha play whatever music she wants, and even begrudgingly sings along when Martha starts blasting the Glee version of Total Eclipse of the Heart, and points to her to sing Jessie’s part. Not that Toni knows his name, or anything about his club, Vocal Adrenaline. Of course not.

She doesn’t complain too loudly when Shelby insists on identifying every animal she sees as they drive through farmlands, and even feels herself start to perk up whenever she hears “cow” or “goat” or “big horse” ring out from the backseat.

Though it might be the second longest day of her entire life, topped only by the drive _to_ Minnesota, it goes by much quicker than she ever imagined, and before she knows it, the map only says thirty minutes until they arrive.

“Hey, would y’all be down to drop me off at Dot’s?” Shelby says, leaning forward from the back.

“What about your car?” Martha asks.

“Oh, I trust you to drive it back to my place,” Shelby says airily.

“And can you drop me off at the gym?” Toni asks.

Martha frowns at her. “What am I, your chauffeur?”

“You’re dropping Shelby off!” Toni protests.

With a huff, Martha agrees, and maybe Toni sticks a tongue out at Shelby when Martha is busy checking her mirrors to change lanes, but she’s her mood remains particularly elevated. So much so that, unfortunately, Martha notices.

“What’s with you all smiling?” Martha says, glancing over as she pulls out of Dot’s parking lot.

“What?” Toni says. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been in a suspiciously good mood,” Martha tells her.

Offended, Toni says, “Why is that suspicious? Aren’t you the one always telling me to be more optimistic or whatever?”

“Yeah, and you never do,” Martha points out. Toni doesn’t say anything. With a sly smile she continues, “Could this have anything to do with you and Shelby cuddling this morning?”

“Okay, first, the fact that you know that is creepy,” Toni says, holding up a finger. She flicks another up. “Second, _she_ was cuddling _me_ , okay? Not the other way around.”

“Um, _your_ arm was around her,” Martha says.

“Sorry, but I can’t be held accountable for anything I do when I’m asleep,” Toni says, shaking her head.

Martha just makes a noise. “Well, okay. I know it’s not like… real, as you keep on telling me. But I also know —“ she pauses, like she can tell whatever she was _going_ to say will instantly press Toni’s ‘defend and deny’ button. Changing tactic, she says, “But if you care at all, I think you guys are nice together. And for each other.”

Toni sits on this. “Really?”

Flicking on her blinker, Martha spares her a glance. “Yeah, really.”

And so the good mood remains.

Somehow, it upholds all through basketball practice, the never-ending team meeting afterwards, showering in the gross locker rooms, and the trek back to her dorm. Her legs feel like they want to fall off, but she chases the reminder that she will soon be lying down in bed, with nothing to do for the rest of the day.

When she pushes open the door, she realizes for the first time that she’s watching Shelby film a YouTube video. Awkwardly, she wonders if she’s supposed to leave or something. “Uh, sorry,” she says as eloquently as one can.

Shelby glances up, makeup seemingly half-done. “Oh, no worries. I’ll just cut all this out when I’m editing.”

Hesitantly, Toni nods, shuffling into the room, and observing the spread of makeup in front of Shelby, as well as the gentle lighting to help smooth out the harsh shadows of their dorm. “So, what’s the video?”

“Get Ready With Me,” Shelby says. Toni watches through the monitor reflecting the camera’s recording as Shelby pauses. “It’s where they get ready with me.”

“I got that,” Toni laughs. The bed looks so inviting, but like the responsible person she’s apparently trying to be now, she hangs up her backpack, and then starts unpacking her basketball bag.

“Hey, Small-Fry,” Shelby says. Toni turns. She’s holding up two containers of… Toni can’t even name it. “Which one?”

“You think I’d know that _how_?” Toni says. She studies them for all of three seconds, then gives up. “I don’t even know what that _is_.”

“One day I’ll get you to let me do your makeup,” Shelby decides. The cough Toni accidentally lets out must not be very subtle, because Shelby turns again, looking quite indignant. “I _will_.” She shrugs, then grins. “I can be quite persuasive.”

“Ah, yes, the picture of authority,” Toni says. Shelby shrugs again, turning back to the mirror in front of her. As she’s asking, Toni realizes she really doesn’t know _what_ she expects the answer to be, but she says, “So, like, what are you even getting ready for?”

The question spikes a pause that is a little too long for comfort. Shelby starts worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and for some reason, Toni starts to get nervous.

Whether it’s karma or just dumb, bad luck, the monitor hooked up to the camera shows her perfectly. Eyes flickering back and forth between herself and Shelby, Toni gets to watch her own expression drop in time to the sinking of her stomach as Shelby nervously says, “Well, uh, I have a date.”

**—**

_i don’t like a gold rush, i don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush / i don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch / i don’t like that_ **_falling feels like flying_ ** _till the bone crush /  
\- gold rush, taylor swift_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of you guys were asking if i have a twitter bc you don't have tumblr, so i made one yesterday! ask q's, get teasers and early snippets, come chat! and as always, thank u for the comments <3
> 
> twitter: miataylorhealey  
> tumblr: quinnfebrey
> 
> \- tumblr


	6. six

Making bad decisions is not a new concept to Toni. In fact, she’d say — rather, _Martha_ would say, and she would sigh in acceptance — that the majority of her choices end up biting her in the ass more often than not.

So when Toni reacts to the whole “I have a date” thing by saying, “What, have they not spent time around your personality yet?” she can feel Little Toni inside her brain huffing with disappointment, but not surprise. Despite that somehow not being a lost cause of a situation, instead of, you know, apologizing or something, Toni turns tail and leaves.

She spends the next hour and a half wandering around campus, bothering Alex in B-Plate, and hiding from Martha. Once sufficiently sure Shelby is gone, Toni slinks back to their dorm.

After deliberating for a few minutes, she decides it’s best to go to sleep early so she’ll miss Shelby coming home. Unfortunately, it also means she misses the fact that Shelby does _not_ come home.

Toni is awoken with the sound of the door opening, and has only blinked halfway to consciousness when she recognizes that Shelby is wearing the exact same clothes as before.

So, okay.

Her half-asleep brain recognizes the look on Shelby’s face as something in between fear, guilt, and what can only be described as ‘Wow, I really wish I wasn’t here right now.’ Toni relates.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Shelby says, shuffling into the room, and thoroughly avoiding eye contact.

The thing is, Toni really intended to apologize, and make it right or whatever. But whether it’s the fact that her brain is still barely turned on, or whether she hasn’t figured out what she’s actually apologizing _for_ , she just yawns and says, “Just because we shared a bed for three nights doesn’t mean you have to be nice to me now.”

The look of absolute surprise is evident when Shelby’s eyes snap up to meet hers. It fades into relief, and a bit of something else Toni can’t place. Shelby just shakes off the frown threatening her lips, and says, “Alright then, Hobbit. Good morning to you too.”

Tucked into the corner of her subconscious, Little Toni just sighs, hanging her head in shame. Toni can’t even argue with that.

“Going to class?” Toni says.

It’s an entirely unnecessary question because every Tuesday for the past three months she’s watched Shelby go through the exact routine she’s doing now, and then head to OChem.

Shelby eyes her weirdly. “Uh, yeah.” She pauses. Then, like she’s not sure what she’s supposed to say, she offers, “You?”

“I’m not going to class,” Toni says dumbly.

Shelby rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Tater, I know. I’m asking what you’re going to do.”

“Oh,” Toni says. “Coffee with Martha, I guess.”

“Speaking of which,” Shelby says. Immediately, she frowns. “Well, I guess they’re not related. But, um, do you want to go to Disneyland on Saturday?”

Of all the sentences to come out of Shelby’s mouth, that was pretty far down on the list. All Toni can do is sputter through something along the lines of, “Uh, what?”

“Not just us,” Shelby says quickly, cheeks turning pink. She fidgets with her backpack strap. “It’s me, Fatin, Dot, Leah, and um, Rachel.”

“Who’s Rachel?” Toni says, frowning.

“She’s kind of the girl I’m seeing,” Shelby says, like it pains her.

“You’re not sure?” Toni says, tilting her head to one side.

With a huff, Shelby resumes sliding her notebooks into her pack with a vengeance. “Alright, do you want to go or not?”

Much to her exhausted body’s chagrin, Toni slides herself somewhat into a sitting position. Reaching for her phone, she says, “I’m, like, super poor.”

“Oh, it’s free,” Shelby says, brightening. She smiles a little, bouncing on the tips of her toes. “I’m going to vlog it, so we get in free. And any food we get on camera is free too.”

“That sounds like a bad plan on Disney’s part,” Toni remarks. She shoots Martha a quick text as Shelby sighs, like she already knows what’s coming.

“And why is that?” she says, giving Toni a look like, _This insult better be good._

“Because I’m pretty sure any viewer of yours would _not_ do something just because you _did_ ,” Toni says. She shrugs. “Like, an un-endorsement or something.”

“That’s not a word,” Shelby snorts, “and also, I don’t think so.”

“Really?” Toni says, sliding out of bed. “‘Cause I can already name one.”

“Who?” Shelby demands.

Toni pauses at the handle of her closet. “Me.”

A shit-eating grins spreads across her face. “So you _are_ a viewer.”

Well, fuck.

“Whatever,” Toni mumbles. She rummages through her endless amounts of shirts, jeans, and sweaters that all look pretty much the same, but pauses when she feels a pair of eyes still burning into her back. She lifts a chin over her shoulder. “What?”

“Do you want to come or not?” Shelby says, huffing.

“Fuck, okay,” Toni says. “Fine, yes.” She tosses an outfit she’s pretty sure might look somewhat decently subpar behind her, hoping it’ll land on her bed. She turns back towards Shelby again, eyeing the way she has still not stopped staring at her. “God, _what?_ ”

“You know that you don’t _have_ to, right?” Shelby asks, eyebrows lifted incredulously.

“No, I’ll come,” Toni says. They stare at each other.

“Okay, whatever,” Shelby says, throwing her hands up. She grabs her bag, and fiddles with the door handle. “See you, Tinkerbell. Have a good day.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too,” Toni mutters.

The door shuts behind Shelby, and thus concludes the most awkward morning she has ever had. Of course, Toni relays this immediately to Martha.

“Remember when you said you think me and Shelby are, like, good for each other or something?” Toni says. She half-heartedly feigns nonchalance over her half of the bear claw.

Martha’s eyes turn thoughtful over her sip of coffee. “Uh, yeah. I mean, it was yesterday.” She reaches for her own portion. “Why?”

“For one thing, she has a girlfriend,” Toni says, shrugging. “So, I’m guessing no dice with the odds of that ever happening.”

“She has a _girlfriend_?” Martha asks, looking utterly confused. She pauses with the bear claw halfway to her mouth, lowers it, and shakes her head. “Wait. She _said_ that? Like, with words?”

“I mean, she went on a date last night,” Toni says, sipping her coffee. Martha just stares at her. “What?”

“A date,” Martha states. “As in, one?”

“Well, yeah,” Toni says, furrowing her eyebrows.

Martha rolls her eyes. “Toni, that is _not_ the same thing.”

“Okay, that’s — I — okay, fine,” Toni sputters. She glowers into her coffee. “But she still went. You don’t go on a date with someone you’re not interested in.”

“People literally do that all the time,” Martha says, looking highly unimpressed. She sighs, tearing off a section of her pastry. “Have you… asked her about it?”

“What?” Toni says through a mouthful of coffee. “No, why would I do that?”

Martha stares at her like she’s an absolute idiot. It’s an eerily similar expression as the one she gave when Toni first told her about their fake-dating plan, and it’s a look she predicts like she’ll be getting a lot in the future. “Uh, maybe so you could have a real answer?” she says. “Instead of just assuming things?”

“I’m not _assuming_ anything,” Toni says, which is a total lie. She spreads out her hands, as if that makes her point more articulate. “Look, if she was interested, she would say something.”

“Right,” Martha says, nodding, “like you’re doing.”

Toni huffs. “I came here for support.”

“Then don’t be saying stupid shit,” Martha says. She laughs into her mug, and then says, “Anything else you want to confess, now that you’re here?”

“You always assume the worst,” Toni pouts. Martha just raises an eyebrow. “Well, now that you mention it, I’m kind of going to Disneyland with her on Saturday.”

Martha’s jaw drops, eyes lighting up. Then, as if she’s telling a secret, she lowers her voice and says, “Is it… a date?”

“Uh, I assume not,” Toni says, “given that four other people will be there, and one of them will be the chick she went out with last night.”

Martha frowns. “Oh.” Then her frown deepens in a way that loses any trace of light-heartedness, and Toni internally sighs at what she knows is coming. “You know you’re not supposed to go on rollercoasters, right?”

“Yes, I do,” Toni says, allowing an audible sigh to slip out. She picks at a fallen almond sliver. “It’s fine.”

“Toni.” Martha’s giving her the ‘you’re an idiot’ look again.

“Honestly, all of the rides are going to be really mild,” Toni says, even though, as a poor foster kid that grew up in Minnesota and has literally never been to Disneyland before, she doesn’t actually know if that’s true. “It’ll be fine, okay?”

“Just because you say ‘okay?’ and give me a smile doesn’t mean it will be,” Martha informs her. She purses her lips. “But, okay.”

**—**

Toni has way too much time to try and envision who this ‘Rachel’ is.

Tuesday, she spends an entire two hours shooting baskets, and attempting to picture her. Honestly, the only person Shelby has ever expressed interest in is, you know, dead, so Toni doesn’t really have a lot to go off of in terms of Shelby’s type.

Sticking to just the name, Toni figures anyone named Rachel is probably boring, white, and extremely tall. She probably would drive a Prius, but it wouldn’t even be one of those cool black ones. No, it would be, like, pure white or that gross yellow option.

Watching her shot slink into the basket, Toni nods. That’s exactly what a Rachel is like.

As for her personality, that comes on Wednesday.

She’s sitting at her desk, pointedly not doing her homework, and tries to think. Toni can’t really recall a single person she even _knows_ who’s name is Rachel. If she had to guess, though, with no evidence at all, she wagers anyone with a name like that is annoying and tries too hard.

Thursday is what Toni has dubbed ‘Why Would Shelby Go On a Date With Her?’ day.

As in, what does Rachel even offer? Probably nothing. She probably made Shelby pay for the food, and only took her back to her place afterwards so Shelby would pay for the Uber.

Friday, Toni almost looks her up, but stops herself.

Saturday, Toni comes to find out that Rachel is none of those things.

Holding out a hand, Toni’s gaze travels up her extremely-toned, extremely not-white arms, and up to a face that could rival Shelby’s. Her eyes actually _twinkle_ when she smiles, and her voice has a soft, but deep sweetness to it when she says, “Hey, I’m Rachel.”

No fucking way.

Toni reaches out, and tries to clear her throat without making it gross. “I’m Toni. Uh, I’m Shelby’s roommate.”

“Cool,” Rachel says, flashing a smile. Somehow, the two of them end up falling into step next to each other as they head towards the front gates. Shelby keeps looking back at them like she thinks they might explode.

“So, are you a UCLA student too?” Toni asks.

“Nah,” Rachel says, angling her back slightly towards Toni. “I actually go to USC. I’m on the diving team.”

Sure enough, when Toni falls back a couple paces, Rachel’s drawstring backpack is bright red with a gold logo in the center. A Trojan. So Rachel _does_ have a flaw.

“How do you know Shelby, then?” Toni says. It comes out a lot more accusatory than she’d like.

With a raised eyebrow — perfectly styled, for the record — and a glance towards the front of the group, Rachel says, “Fatin and I have a class together.

Thank God for small miracles because that’s the end of that conversation. Toni just nods, and the two of them hurry up to walk with the rest of the group, with Toni firmly falling into line beside Dot, and Rachel infuriatingly stepping up besides Shelby.

The stroll down Main Street is freakishly crowded, but Shelby whips out her camera like she doesn’t even notice. Holding it by the gimbal, she plasters on a smile, and says, “Hey y’all! Welcome back to the channel, or if you’re new here —“

Without thinking, Toni mimics, “— welcome to the family!” like she always does.

Shelby sends her a weird look, but continues, “Today’s video is one I am _so_ excited for. I’m here at Disneyland, and I’m going to do a little vlog, as well as showing you all the _best_ places to eat.”

“Free food,” Fatin cheers.

“Fuck yeah, dude,” Dot nods.

“So,” Shelby says, sending a pointed stare at them, “stick around!”

“Honestly,” Leah pipes up, watching Shelby stick her camera back in her backpack, “I am _so_ ready to have a churro in my mouth.”

“Like, _six_ churros,” Rachel agrees.

“Rides first,” Shelby begs, lifting her backpack as she zips it as if to say, _Remember why we’re here for free?_ “Plus, I don’t want y’all to puke up churro and ruin them for me for the rest of my life.” She shivers.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” Toni muses.

She quickens her pace slightly, catching up to Shelby. Shelby sighs, but there’s a smile on her lips when she says, “My little brother. Once, our parents went out, and we ate, like, a whole box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.” She wrinkles her nose, saying, “He threw that up _everywhere_ ,” then frowns. “We weren’t really allowed to eat it anyway, but I definitely still avoid it to this day.”

“Ew,” Leah says. She glances around. “Maybe I _don’t_ want a churro.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rachel says, sighing. “After we do some rides,” she clarifies, throwing a sickeningly sweet smile at Shelby, “I am _so_ at the churro cart.”

“Let’s do the Matterhorn. Then Space Mountain,” Fatin suggests. She starts leading them that way anyway, so they don’t really have a choice, but she explains, “They always get so fucking busy. Might as well do ‘em earlier, right?”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Toni says.

“Yeah, I don’t go to USC for my stunning looks,” Fatin says, throwing her a look.

“Well, it’s USC, so it can’t be for your intelligence,” Toni shoots back.

Rachel looks like she wants to say something, but Shelby lays a hand on her elbow and says, “Oh, don’t worry. They always do this. Secretly, though, I think they love each other the most out of everyone here.”

“Me and the Bruin?” Fatin says incredulously, right as Toni chimes in, “Absolutely fucking not.”

Shelby grins over at them. “See?”

The Matterhorn has a wait time of a literal hour, which Toni does _not_ think can be really that worth it. Leah and Fatin tug them into line as if it’s no big deal though, and Fatin even nods to the clock as they pass, and says, “Sometimes, it’ll be, like, one-hundred and twenty minutes.”

So, yeah, they stand in line for a whole goddamn hour. When they finally end up at the front, Toni watches as the little bobsled carts rumble off, and once again thinks, _This was not worth that wait_.

It ends up being incredible, and also the bane of her existence. The track is maybe the only thing in the world more rumbly than Shelby’s driving, and the drops and turns and dips, while fully fueling her need for constant adrenaline, also sends her brain bouncing around in her skull.

So maybe Martha had a point.

Toni can practically feel her future headache blossoming, and hesitantly asks God if he’ll let the ride be over soon. Apparently, God isn’t fucking listening, because as soon as they roll back to the platform, a cast member is telling Shelby they want her to go again, but to whip out her camera and film herself this time.

Logically, Toni knows she _could_ ask to get out, but as soon as the cast member announces they’ll be going through for a second time, Rachel and Leah immediately high-five as best they can in their seats. And, well, Toni’s not about to let Rachel show her up or anything.

So she stays.

She stumbles off the ride, eventually, with her brain thoroughly scrambled, and suddenly realizes why the top of every single list of advice from all her doctors was to _not_ go on rollercoasters anymore.

_Too fuckin’ late_ , she thinks.

As she follows them down the ramp, apparently she doesn’t hide her phantom headache all that well, because Dot sidles up to her.

“Half-Pint,” she calls. “You good?”

“Never better,” she mumbles.

Dot looks extremely unconvinced, but says, “Okay.” She nods towards the front of the pack, where Fatin and Leah are holding hands, and bulldozing them through the thickening crowd. “I think they’re going to go on Space Mountain.”

“That was just my second choice,” Toni says flatly.

Dot cracks a smile. “Yeah, well, I’m not into it. You wanna come with me to do something calmer? Haunted Mansion?”

Toni frowns. “I don’t like ghosts.” Her non-scrambled brain brings her up to speed about the fact that this is Dot giving her an out, so she quickly amends, “But I do today!”

Rolling her eyes, Dot slings an arm around her shoulder, and calls out, “Hey, the Half-Pint and I are going to Haunted Mansion instead!”

Leah and Fatin barely even spare them a second glance, which, rude, but Shelby turns back, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling Space Mountain,” Toni says, shrugging. She leans a little into Dot’s side, because it turns out being held up while you’re dizzy as fuck is really nice. “We’ll meet back up for lunch or something?”

“No, I’ll —“ she turns back towards the rest of them “— I’ll come with you guys.”

“It’s fine, we’ll see them later,” Rachel says, practically tugging her along. “We’re gonna lose our tour guides.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Dot says, throwing Shelby a smile that has some kind of undertone Toni can’t place. Shelby frowns, but allows Rachel to take her hand, and they get swallowed into the crowd. Dot starts leading them towards New Orleans, which, thank God, because Toni couldn’t find her way around to save her life, but she’s a little less grateful when Dot says, “Wanna tell me why you’re acting all weird and shit?”

Toni’s jaw drops. “This is an ambush.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Dot says, sighing. “It’s not an _ambush_ , it’s called your friend trying to look out for you.”

“Oh,” is all Toni can say, because since when did she have friends besides Martha and Alex?

“So?” Dot raises an eyebrow.

“Um,” Toni starts, letting Dot drag her around the crowd forming around Pirates, “I’m kind of not supposed to do rollercoasters.”

“We just did Matterhorn,” Dot says.

“Yeah,” Toni says.

They stare at each other.

Shaking her head, Dot asks, “Okay, and _why_ aren’t you supposed to do rollercoasters?”

“Shelby didn’t tell you?” Toni tries to mask her surprise, but clearly it doesn’t work.

“No, dude,” Dot says, looking almost disappointed in her. “Shelby’s not like that. If you tell her a secret, it’s a secret.”

“Well, that’s… nice,” Toni says. “I had kind of bad head trauma in high school.” She pauses. “Like a concussion, but worse.”

“How much worse?” Dot says. She shoves her way in front of a group of about ten people as they sidle up to Haunted Mansion.

“Given I’m still alive, not that bad,” Toni says.

“That’s how you’re measuring the severity?” Dot says, lifting her arm off Toni’s shoulders. “You gotta get a new scale, Half-Pint.”

“Alright, whatever,” Toni sighs. “It’s not a big deal. I just… well, yeah. I’m not supposed to irritate the noggin or whatever.”

“Then why’d you come to _Disneyland_?” Dot says.

“You said this wasn’t an interrogation!” Toni groans.

“No,” Dot says, “I said it wasn’t an _ambush_.”

“Okay, fuck, fine. I don’t know, maybe I wanted to come?” Toni says, shrugging. They’re quiet for a few minutes, meandering along the line that is thankfully moving about six times as fast as the Matterhorn’s was. As subtly as she can, which is to say, not, Toni adds, “So what do you think about Rachel?”

“Rachel?” Dot says, holding up two fingers for the cast member. “I don’t know, she’s cool. Her sister is a little weird, but she’s cool too.”

“Did you know Shelby went on a date with her?” Toni says.

Dot’s jaw drops. “They _what_?”

“Oh, fuck.” Toni tries to backtrack, mumbling, “Uh, sorry, I think I mixed up the wrong Shelby.”

“I’m fuckin' kidding, dude,” Dot says, smacking her on the shoulder. “Yes, of course I know my best friend went on a date with her.”

“And?” Toni says, waving her hands out incredulously.

“And what?” Dot says. “I think that’s cool?”

“But, like,” Toni starts, trying to figure out a way to say it that’s not so goddamn weird, “why?”

So, mission failed.

“Honestly?” Dot says, looking at her with a little smirk, like she’s telling her a secret. “Rachel is exactly Shelby’s type.” Toni arches an eyebrow. “You know, all athletic and outdoorsy. Funny, can be kind of intense, loyal to a fault. All that good shit.”

“Hm,” Toni huffs.

“Okay, aren’t you, like, a lesbian or something?” Dot asks, confusion amusingly evident. “What’s with the bad vibes?”

“Oh, my God, I don’t care that they’re two girls,” Toni says, “I care that —“ she pauses, because really, there’s no reason for her to. Finally, she comes up with, “Well, I don’t know. I’m just curious. I’m nosy like that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dot snorts. “They went on _one_ date, I don’t really have an opinion on that ye — what are you doing?”

Toni was _trying_ to scoot closer to Dot without her noticing. “I told you I don’t like ghosts,” she says, eyeing the room they’re being lead into warily.

“Oh, you were serious,” Dot says. She slings an arm around Toni’s shoulders anyhow. “Don’t worry, I’ll fight ‘em off.”

“You better,” Toni mumbles. She has to admit, though, the dim lights inside are considerably helping the phantom headache she can feel growing into a real one. “God, I could take a nap in here.”

“Feel free,” Dot snorts, looking around at all the decorations. It’s the end of November, so the whole place is decked out in Christmas themed stuff, and Dot eyes the Santa hat stuck onto the talking heads. “My dad would have loved this kind of thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Toni says. “You never went with him?”

She shrugs. “Never had a chance. He always wanted to wait until I was older, so I’d be taller, you know? But then he got sick, and then we didn’t have the money. Plus, he would have been a real drag to have around.”

Toni whistles. “Ouch.”

Dot waves her off. “Oh, please. I mean that in the nicest way.” She nods up to a family in front of them. “I mean, look. It’s like taking a two-year-old. Why would you want that?”

“I don’t know,” Toni says, shrugging. “Memories and shit?”

“I’m half-convinced Shelby chose UCLA just because it’s near Anaheim,” Dot says. Toni doesn’t know if that’s a joke, and opts to say nothing. Dot glances over at her. “I’m serious.”

“She doesn’t seem like a crazy Disney person,” Toni says, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s not, it’s just…” Dot trails off. “Oh, she’ll tell you. Maybe.” She side eyes Toni in a way that makes her feel like she’s going to regret splitting off with Dot. “So, how was Thanksgiving?”

“Good,” Toni says, shrugging. “Got to see my sister’s mom, eat good food.” She slides into the Doom Buggy after Dot. “I kind of also made up with my ex.”

“Like, made-up?” Dot says. She tilts her head to the side. “Or, made-up.”

Toni blinks. “Is there a difference?”

“Well, yeah,” Dot says. “One of them means you’re together again.”

“Oh,” Toni frowns. “No, definitely not. Just friends.” She shrugs. “But we ended, like, really badly. Like, worst case scenario. So it’s nice to be on good terms again, I don’t know.”

As the lap bar lowers, Dot looks like she might reply, but they receive about three glares from all three occupants in the Doom Buggy next to them, as if to say, _Are you going to talk the entire ride?_ Dot mimes zipping her lips, and Toni settles back against the seat. But, like, close to Dot.

All in all, it’s another pretty horrific experience because ghosts, but halfway through, Toni realizes that if she just closes her eyes, she can lean her head on Dot’s shoulders and pretend they’re in the car or something. Yeah, maybe it’s loud, but it _is_ dark, and it does make her feel better.

Unfortunately, despite it being almost December, it’s still California, so the sun is out and ready when they stumble from the Haunted Mansion exit.

“So?” Toni says. “Still think your dad would have loved it?”

“Oh, dude, for sure,” Dot says. “Especially as it is now. All Christmas-y and shit? O Holy Night was his favorite song.”

Against her wishes, Toni’s nose wrinkles. “Really?”

“Hey, don’t be hating on the Christmas tunes,” Dot says, slapping her arm lightly. She whips out her phone as Toni blinks, still trying to adjust. “Looks like they want to go to California Adventure for lunch. You down?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Toni says, shrugging. Once again, Dot leads them back down New Orleans, and off towards the Jungle Cruise, and then Main street. As they navigate through the crowd, Toni pipes up, tugging lightly on Dot’s arm. “Are you going to tell me why you actually wanted to do Haunted Mansion?”

“It’s fun?” Dot says, eyebrows furrowing.

Toni sighs, then clarifies, “No, like, with _me_.”

“I don’t know, dude,” Dot says. Her expression is something akin to confusion, as if she’s trying to figure out if she’s supposed to say something specific. “You really did seem super shook on the Matterhorn, plus you look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“Why does everyone always say that?” Toni complains. “God, even my ex was like, ‘You should go to therapy.’”

“Have you?” Dot says. She tugs Toni out of the way of a mom armed with a double-stroller, and adds, “It can be nice to go through what’s bothering you with a completely neutral person.”

“I can’t think of anything worse,” Toni says truthfully. 

Dot throws her a look way too much like the one Bernice gives her. “Well, Half-Pint, maybe that’s _why_ people think you _should_ go.”

“Respectfully,” Toni says, “I’m choosing to ignore you.”

Dot rolls her eyes, which is to be expected, and then hooks her arm over Toni’s shoulders again, which is also to be expected, but her following it up with a kiss on the top of the head is a new one.

For the life of her, Toni cannot figure out how Dot is navigating them through crowds from hell, and the most confusing layout of an amusement park ever. Somehow, she gets them back to Main Street, down to the exit gates, and over to the entrance for California Adventure, where they finally catch up with the group for food.

“Wine Country Trattoria,” Toni reads the sign aloud.

“Good, you’re literate after all,” comes that familiar Southern drawl.

Toni turns. “You picked this?”

Shelby’s smirk backs down into a soft sort of smile, and she says, “Yeah, it has this dining package where you get tickets to this show called World of Color, and it’s cheaper. I thought it would be fun.”

“Isn’t it free?” Toni asks.

“Whatever, Papa Smurf,” Shelby says, gesturing to her bright blue UCLA t-shirt.

“This is school pride,” Toni says, following her over to the table. “You’re a Bruin, so you’re not allowed to hate.”

“Fine, you’re a regular Smurf,” Shelby says, shrugging. “Happy?”

Toni frowns. “No.”

As the rest of them sit down, Shelby starts running around with her camera shooting what she calls “B-Roll.” Quite frankly, it’s kind of interesting for Toni to see the behind the scenes of what she’s been watching for the past three years.

Vaguely, she feels like there’s something super unfair about Shelby having millions of subscribers that would kill for the opportunity, meanwhile she barely even started tolerating her until three weeks ago, but she just shrugs, and enjoys it.

The day drags on, and Toni has to admit, Disneyland is pretty fucking cool. Expensive as hell, but given she’s not paying a cent, she’s thoroughly enjoying herself. Except for the fact that standing all day when you have a headache kind of sucks, the lines don’t even bother her anymore once she remembers Dot actually likes talking to her.

As for Rachel, well, watching her throughout the day just reassures Toni that Rachel is pretty much perfect. She can’t even be mad that Shelby went on a date with her because, like, she totally would too.

She even tells Shelby this as they’re waiting in line for the bathroom.

“Is Rachel single?” Toni asks, feigning casualty.

Shelby stares at her. “Did you forget that I went on a date with her?”

“Well, I’m assuming it didn’t go well, because it’s you,” Toni says, raising an eyebrow, “so I’m asking for me.”

“Okay, stop,” Shelby says. She holds up a hand. “I’m not even going there with you. Nope, not today. We’re at the happiest place on Earth, and I _will_ be happy.”

“I think if you insist it, it doesn’t work,” Toni says, shrugging. They stand there in silence for about thirty seconds before Toni breaks. Peering over the rest of the line, she says, “God, why is it taking so long?”

“It’s been, like, three minutes,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. “You have no patience.”

“No, I don’t,” Toni says. She gestures towards the line. “Well, make yourself useful, BFG. How many people in front of us?”

“A lot,” Shelby says, not even looking. Toni glares at her. “What? The line is what it is. Deal with it.”

“Well, I’m bored,” Toni huffs.

“Let’s play a game!” Shelby says brightly.

“Never mind,” Toni says.

This doesn’t phase Shelby at all. With a little punch to her shoulder, that could be nonchalant, but isn’t, she says, “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.” She thinks on it. “We could do the Roommate Tag.”

“That sounds painful,” Toni tells her.

“It’s a YouTube channel thing,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. “We ask each other questions about being roommates.” Toni wrinkles her nose. “Look, if you ever decide you don’t hate me, we can do it on my channel. Might as well practice now, right?”

“Shouldn’t we be doing the fake-girlfriend tag?” Toni wonders aloud.

“That’s not a thing,” Shelby says, whipping out her phone.

“How have we not moved _once_?” Toni demands, stretching up on her tip-toes.

“Hey, Stuart Little,” Shelby says, nudging her. “Focus up. The question is: what was your first impression of me?” Before Toni can say anything, she holds up a hand. “Wait, I’ll go first.” She pauses. “I thought you were cute, but like in a confusing way. And then I thought you were mean.” She grins. “Okay, now you.”

“That’s a terrible first impression,” Toni says, ignoring the way Shelby called her cute.

“Well, it came from _you_ _,”_ Shelby says, shrugging. Toni just stares at her. “So?” she urges. “Answer the question.”

“Okay, fine,” Toni huffs. Now is the moment where she should just straight-up lie, but instead, what comes out is, “I thought, ‘Oh, God, it’s that girl from YouTube.’”

Shelby tilts her head to the side. “I thought you said you hadn’t watched one of my videos until that vlog with Fatin.”

“I did say that,” Toni sighs. Shelby’s grin grows, if that’s even possible. “Yes, I have been watching your videos before we were roommates.” She folds her arms. “Next question.” Shelby opens her mouth. “Next. Question.”

“Alright, alright,” Shelby says, smile wide as ever. She glances at her phone. “How long did it take for us to become friends?” She frowns. “Jury’s still out on that one, huh?” She looks back down. “What do you argue most commonly about?” She instantly juts a finger out. “Your mess.”

“Aren’t you used to it by now?” Toni protests. “Come on, it’s not even that bad.”

“Have you ever even owned a laundry basket?” Shelby says incredulously.

“I own one now,” Toni fires back, “I just don’t use it.” In hindsight, it’s probably not as good of a comeback as she thought. Quickly, she adds, “We also fight about your shit taste in music.”

“I’m from the South,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes, “I’m gonna listen to country music.”

“If I didn’t know you were gay, I’d consider that homophobic,” Toni says. “Country songs should be a hate crime.”

Something flashes in Shelby’s eyes. Toni can’t really figure out what, but it’s not the expected reaction for, you know, a _joke_. Before she can say anything, though, Shelby clears her expression with a smile, and says, “You’re one to talk. You watch that rat movie practically every weekend.”

“It’s called Ratatouille,” Toni says, holding up a finger. She flips up a second, and says, “Also, it’s not every weekend, it’s every other.” She holds up a third finger. “Finally, it’s a good movie. In conclusion, fuck you.”

Shelby pauses from her phone scroll, and looks up. “Alright, this line _is_ taking some time.”

In the end, they spend thirty-seven minutes in line. Toni times it. As soon as they realized they were _not_ going to be done anytime soon, they placed bets on who would be able to guess the wait time. Toni wins, but only because she’s a pessimist, and expects the worst.

After they’ve sufficiently wasted the rest of the daylight waiting to take a leak, they finally end up catching up with the rest of the others for the show Shelby wanted to see, World of Color.

As they’re waiting for it to start, Shelby looks weirdly nervous. One of her legs keeps bouncing up and down, she won’t stop looking around, and her hands come to fiddle with her cross about seventy times in a span of one single minute.

“What’s wrong with her?” Toni murmurs, nudging Fatin.

Fatin follows her eyesight, then shrugs. “She’ll be fine.”

Cryptic, but alright.

Toni isn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly isn’t a compilation of the most tender Disney moments ever set to music and displayed on bunch of colored water being shot up in the air. She has to admit Shelby has taste.

When she glances over at her to say something nice or whatever — she hasn’t gotten that far yet, she notices that Shelby looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. Which, sure, the whole show is touching in a misty-eye sort of way, but certainly not enough to warrant tears streaming down your face while you hyperventilate.

Before Toni can do something dumb like try and comfort her, Dot is there, wrapping her arm around her shoulder, and letting Shelby lean into her neck. Toni has been on the receiving end of that arm-around-the-shoulder move, and she has to say it’s pretty effective.

The whole thing is probably none of Toni’s business. Actually, it definitely isn’t. She knows this. Still, when they approach their dorm room, just the two of them, and the clock moves towards midnight, she can’t stop herself from asking about it.

“So, like, you good?” she says.

Shelby raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Sorry,” Toni mumbles, cheeks flushing. Quickly, she amends, “Just, I saw you kind of… cry a lot. During World of Color.”

Shelby sighs. “That did happen.”

Toni flops down on her bed, and tosses her jacket off onto the side, which prompts Shelby to give her a look that says something like, _See? I told you. Messy_. “What, was Disney a big part of your childhood or something?”

Settling on her own bed, Shelby nibbles at her thumb for a few seconds, and then shoves her hand under her thigh to say, “It reminded me of Becca, that’s all.” When Toni doesn’t say anything, she adds, “We always talked about going to Disneyland together, and watching that show. Don’t know why, we just did.” She smiles down at her lap. “We would watch YouTube videos of World of Color, like, every single weekend.”

“That’s cute,” Toni offers.

“Yeah, well, I’m here,” Shelby says, fingers coming to the cross around her neck, “and she’s not. So, less cute.”

Hesitantly, Toni says, “Does that have anything to do with _Rachel_ being there?”

Shelby sends her a sharp look, dropping the necklace. “What makes you say that?”

“Uh, nothing,” Toni stutters. Her eyes widen. “You mentioned Becca was kind of an ex, so, I don’t know.”

Deflating, Shelby shuffles back onto her bed, and rolls until she’s all tucked up into herself on her side. “I suppose it was just a reminder of how disastrous relationships with me can go. Or, how low the odds are of me finding someone who would want to be with me. Or what I’m scared of a relationship becoming.” She pauses. “Or a combination of all three.”

“Well, what if it goes right?” Toni says. She kind of feels like a piece of shit for making all those jokes about Shelby’s dates going poorly, so she tries for a smile. “Like, what if none of the bad things you expect ever come true? And it’s just… good?”

It’s _supposed_ to make Shelby, like, fucking feel better, but it just sends her shoulders into a slump. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”

“What?” Toni shakes her head. Maybe it’s the brain damage from the Matterhorn, but she’s lost. “I don’t —“

That makes Shelby smile, at least a little bit, and she cuts her off gently. “This is sort of, like, a fifth date conversation,” she sighs.

Blinking, Toni just says, “Why?”

A wry, humorless smile finds its way onto Shelby’s lips, and maybe her voice is a little bit watery when she says, “Because I _know_ nobody’ll want to see me again after I tell them what happened with Becca, so I should at least get a little bit of fun in first.” She shakes her head. “Look,I — I’ve _hurt_ people.”

“Well, we’ve kind of been on five dates,” Toni says. She shrugs, avoiding eye contact maybe as much as Shelby is, and picks at the fraying carpet of their dorm. She starts ticking them off on her fingers. “First, we went to the bathroom together at Disneyland, and given the fact that it took over half an hour, that’s a date.” She flips up another finger. “We’ve slept in the same bed.” She pauses. “And like, collectively, all this fucking time we spend together in this shoebox of a place counts as at _least_ three.”

The half-scoff, half-laugh Shelby gives her is slightly less teary, but her weak smile still slips when she says, “None of those things are actually dates, Sour Patch.”

_God, please let me be nice without fucking it up_ , Toni silently prays, hoping maybe this time it’ll work.

“Hey,” Toni starts, wiping her palms on her jeans. “Like, I know we’re not, like —“ she falls short of saying ‘friends,’ because what if Shelby _does_ consider them friends? Deciding on an alternative, Toni continues, “I know we’re not those kinds of people to talk about our feelings and stuff together. But we had some horrible heart-to-hearts over Thanksgiving, right?”

She marvels at the way she manages to say any decent thing in the absolute worst way possible. _God_ , Toni adds, _fuck you._

Toni’s question catches up to Shelby, and she says, “Yeah, I guess so.” Her fingers twist around a lock of hair. “So?”

“So, if you ever want to, you know, talk,” Toni says, “we can.”

“You just said it was a horrible experience,” Shelby points out.

“No, yeah, I did,” Toni says, rolling her eyes at herself. “But really. I’m here if — well, I’m here, okay?”

They bathe in what should be an awkward, but is mostly a comfortable silence. With a little sigh, and a shake of her head so subtle Toni almost misses it, Shelby says, “Thanks. But, I don’t know. It’s different with you.”

“In a good way, or a bad way?” Toni asks with a little chuckle.

Blowing out a puff of air, Shelby’s eyelids flutter closed, and her right hand comes up to grip painfully tightly around the cross hanging from her neck. “Both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: miataylorhealey  
> tumblr: quinnfebrey
> 
> come chat!


	7. seven

Sometime in between waking up, and having a cup of coffee shoved into her hands, Toni comes to the realization that she and Shelby might actually be sort of considered possible friends.

She blinks, still trying to reason herself into waking up instead of downing the whole coffee and falling back asleep. Where she’s, as usual, packing her backpack, Shelby is watching her every so often, like she's wondering if she’s supposed to be concerned that Toni is pretty catatonic.

Eventually, Toni manages to get out, “Thanks.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Shelby snorts, zipping up her pack. In the back of her mind, Toni knows she could cough up a decent comeback at least, but she sort of loses the will halfway into her second sip of coffee. “You okay?”

Apparently, Toni’s lack of retort is cause for concern. Toni sighs. “Mhm.”

Experimentally, Shelby says, “Fuck off.”

Toni just raises one eyebrow, peering at her through where she has her head resting in her hands. “What do you want?”

“Oh, my God,” Shelby says, observing her pretty pitiful form. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“ _That_ was your test?” Toni complains. She sighs, taking another drink of coffee. “Nothing. My head hurts a bit, and I guess I’m a little nauseous.” Shelby opens her mouth, but Toni cuts her off. “It is what it is.”

“Your head hurts,” Shelby says slowly. “Like, your brain trauma head?”

“The only one I’ve got,” Toni agrees.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that we went on, like, four rollercoasters yesterday?” Shelby suggests. Toni pauses, which Shelby, of course, takes as an answer in itself. “Oh.”

“How’d you know?” Toni says, pushing her pillows into a backrest.

“I volunteered with the Red Cross in high school,” Shelby says proudly.

“A woman of the people,” Toni says, laying back down.

The swing of her backpack onto her shoulders isn’t as peppy as it usually is, and Shelby hesitates at the door. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“It’s a headache,” Toni sighs. “I think I’ll live.”

“Considering the fact that you don’t seem to do much thinking of any kind,” Shelby says, arching an eyebrow, “forgive me if I don’t trust that.” She pauses, one hand stuck on her hip annoyingly so — really, when _isn’t_ she annoying. “Do I need to call Martha?”

“Do _not_ ,” Toni says, shooting her a glare.

“Okay,” Shelby says, absolutely no trace in her tone that she believes Toni, “because you kind of look like you’re about to hurl.” She tilts her head to the one side. “Or maybe you just look that way, I honestly can’t remember.”

“I was having a dream about your driving,” Toni mumbles, huffing into her coffee. “Seriously, go to class. If I had known you worrying about me would be like this, I never would have been nice to you in the first place.”

It’s a statement that could be mean, but isn’t. Whether that’s due to the fact that Shelby sees through her bullshit right away, or the fact that she’s delivering the words from half-fetal position, it doesn’t land nearly as well as Toni had hoped.

Shelby just shrugs, grabs her B-Card, and says, “Alright, suit yourself. See you in a couple hours, Pikachu.”

With full intentions to go back to sleep, Toni rolls back towards the wall before the door has even closed behind Shelby. No sooner as she burrowed back into the blankets does her phone ring. Groaning, she wiggles over to her nightstand.

**Incoming call from Bernice**

As tempting as it is to let her run on to voicemail, in the back of her victim-of-a-paint-mixer-brain, she remembers that Bernice can’t think anything is suspicious. Sighing, she hits accept, and switches it onto speaker. “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?” Bernice asks, voice crackling apologetically over the line.

“No,” Toni says, yawing. “Hm. Maybe.” She shakes her head, pushing herself into a sitting position. “What’s up?”

“I’m sending you a care package,” Bernice says, “and you have to share with Shelby.” She must hear Toni start to groan, because she adds, “I mean it. Half of the muffins are for her.”

"What?" Toni complains. “No, no way.”

“That’s what you get for not telling me about your girlfriend’s birthday,” Bernice accuses. She makes a sort of tsk-ing sound, and then says, “That’s what I _would_ have sent her for her birthday, so she gets it now.”

Oh, fuck. Toni doesn’t even know when Shelby’s birthday _is_ — so how the fuck does Bernice? — and just says, “Oh.”

“Speaking of,” Bernice says, either oblivious to or ignoring Toni’s plight, “have you asked her to Christmas yet?”

“Am I supposed to?” Toni says. She rubs at her temples. “Can’t you do it?”

“I could, but she needs to hear it from _you_ ,” Bernice says.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Toni says dumbly.

The sigh on the other end of the line is so heavy it’s almost offensive. “If I ask her, and she accepts, she’ll spend the whole time feeling like she’s intruding on family time without you really wanting her there.”

“What?” Toni frowns, sliding a pillow behind her lower back. “That’s stupid. We’d all love to have her.”

“Then tell her that,” Bernice says, laughing a little. “She’s _your_ girlfriend.” There’s a pause, and then a more hopeful lilt crawls into her tone. “Where is she? Is she there?”

“Why do I get the feeling you like my girlfriend more than you like _me_ ,” Toni says, huffing to make up for the way her heart skips when she says ‘my girlfriend.’

“Because someone made three pies over Thanksgiving,” Bernice says, “and we both know it wasn’t you.”

"I have my strengths,” Toni mumbles. She sighs, wondering why she’s still so goddamn tired, even though she probably slept for at least eight hours. “Is that all?”

“You have somewhere to be?” Bernice jokes.

“Yeah, asleep,” Toni says into her pillow.

The sound of breathing fills the line, and then Bernice’s voice much softer than before. “You’re taking care of yourself, right? Sleeping, eating, relaxing?”

With her eyes squeezed shut, Toni can practically visualize Bernice’s face across the call. Her eyebrows will be all furrowed, mouth pressed tightly together, and she’ll be doing that little thing with her eyes she does that breaks down all of Toni’s inhibitions. They’re on a phone call, however, so Toni is immune.

“Mhm,” she assures her, trying to sound as convincing as possible. She blinks. “I’m just tired today. It’s not a big deal.”

“Alright,” Bernice says, doubtful as ever. “I trust you, but only because Shelby is your roommate.”

“Ye of little faith,” Toni mutters.

“Ye of little self-care,” Bernice retorts.

Toni huffs. “Fine.”

After five more minutes of bartering, Toni manages to get Bernice to hang up, but she suspects she’ll be hearing more about it from Martha when Bernice inevitably forces her to do her own check-in on Toni.

**Marty B**

**[9:13 AM]:** good news and bad news  
 **[9:13 AM]:** which u want first?

**[9:15 AM]:** Good??

**[9:17 AM]:** good news: it’s never  
gonna happen again :D

**[9:17 AM]:** ok…

**[9:18 AM]:** bad news, it turns out  
the doctors meant it when  
they said don’t go on any  
rollercoasters

**[9:18 AM]:** Oh my god TONI

**[9:19]:** shh i'm napping

**[9:19 AM]:** Are u kidding me???

**[9:19 AM]:** shhhhhhh

Deciding it is going to be near impossible to go back to sleep, Toni pops about six Ibuprofen with half a can of flat Red Bull, and decides to do her Reading Test. As in, the periodic self-issued exam she gives herself to check how badly her brain is messed up at the time.

It’s there, about forty-five minutes later, that Shelby finds her highly unsuccessful.

“You’re… reading?” Shelby says. “Since when?”

“Since I decided to see if the noggin is working,” Toni says, frowning at the book in her hands.

“What’s the verdict?” Shelby asks, beginning to unpack her backpack. “If it makes a difference, you’re still equally annoying.”

“Thank you,” Toni says, eyes fixed back on the paragraph in front of her. “Verdict is that I’m illiterate.”

Shelby pauses. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, sort of,” Toni says, sighing. She tries one more time to start the first page, and then gives up after the fourth word. “Basically, this thing happens where I can’t, like, process text or something.” She shrugs. “Imagine reading Spanish or German, or something. It’s phonetic, right? So you can sound it all out. It just doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“That sounds serious,” Shelby says, frowning. She turns, leaning against her desk. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

“Yeah, it comes and goes,” Toni says, waving her off.

“That’s worse,” Shelby deadpans. She crosses over to Toni’s bed, peering down at the book. “What are you trying to read, anyway?”

Toni flips the cover for her. “Percy Jackson.” She rolls her eyes before Shelby can. “Don’t laugh at me, okay? They’re good.”

“I would never,” Shelby says, fighting to keep a smile off her face. “I think that’s cute.”

“Yeah, well, they’ve been my favorite book series since forever,” Toni says, sighing. “When I was recovering from my TBI, I was told to read books I knew well. Something about working the brain without forcing me to keep track of new characters and plots, too.” She smiles down at the cover. “Must’ve read these things, like, twenty times.”

“I have to say, I never have,” Shelby says. Toni glares at her. “I’m sorry!” She quirks an eyebrow. “Why do you like them so much?”

“Something cheesy you’re going to make fun of me for,” Toni mumbles. Shelby just waits for her to continue. “It’s about, like, problem kids finding friends, and community, and learning that they’re not _all_ bad, and whatever.” She pauses, and then, like she’s telling a secret, says, “I was kind of an unruly child.”

“You?” Shelby deadpans. “No way.”

“Yeah, well, it was nice sometimes to daydream,” Toni says. She peers up at Shelby. “You know? Like, in the books, the kids have to always keep moving so monsters don’t find them. And I was always moving around in the foster system.” She shrugs. “On days when I felt alone, it was cool to imagine a world in which it was because I was secretly a demigod, and that I had a whole bunch of people waiting to be my family.”

“And?” Shelby says. There’s an expectant furrow in her eyebrow, but beneath that is an inscrutable expression Toni couldn’t decode if she tried.

Toni stares at her. “If you’re wondering if secretly I have a parent that’s an immortal Greek god, that would be a no.”

“Thanks,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. “I meant, what about Martha?” She sinks back onto her own bed. “How’d you two even meet?”

“First day of middle school,” Toni says proudly. “We had the same PE class, and Martha had to sit out because she was recovering from an injury, and I had to sit out because I got in trouble for fighting a kid.”

“You fought someone on the _first_ day of school?” Shelby says, tilting her head to the side. “Why?”

“What’s important is that I was right,” Toni says, folding her arms. “Anyway, the teacher tells me to go sit next to Martha, and to think about my behavior or something.” She knows there’s a stupid grin on her face, because there always is when she tells this story. “Martha raises her hand, and says, ‘Does she _have_ to sit here? Isn’t my injury punishment enough?’”

“Sounds like a reasonable argument,” Shelby allows.

“Yeah, well, as a law-abiding individual,” Toni says, “I did what the teacher told me to, and I sat next to her.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I don’t even remember exactly what I said, but I know it was hilarious, and so Martha invited me over for dinner that night, and now we’re best friends.”

“You have very good taste in friends,” Shelby says. She smirks. “Not so sure about your taste in girlfriends, though.”

“If you’re talking about Regan, she’s actually really cool,” Toni defends. She purses her lips. “I know her mom is kind of a bitch, but the apple falls far from the tree.”

Shelby furrows her eyebrows. “Thanks for saying that in the absolute weirdest way possible.”

With a feeling of ‘I need to win this argument, even though I don’t even know what we’re fighting about,’ which is one of those emotions that only Shelby can bring out, Toni has already opened her mouth to respond when there’s a knock on the door. She closes her mouth.

Shelby shrugs, but hauls herself off her bed to open the door. “Dot?”

“Hey,” Dot says, striding into the room.

Shelby stands at the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming over.” She frowns. “Did we make plans? Shit.”

“Oh, no,” Dot says, grinning. “I’m here for the Half-Pint.”

Comically, Shelby stares at Toni. “What?”

Toni stares at Dot. “ _What?_ ”

“Yee-haw,” Dot says, rifling through Toni’s closet. “Up and at ‘em, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“No, we don’t,” Toni begs.

Dot tosses her a pair of pants, and a shirt. “Fine,” she corrects, “we have a _decent_ day ahead of us.”

Toni pokes at the clothes, sighing. “Do I have to?”

“Well, no, but I’m buying all your food for the day,” Dot offers.

Shelby is still looking particularly affronted about this, but within five minutes Toni is dressed, grabbing her phone, and her B-Card, and waving. “I’m hungry. See ya, Goodkind.”

“Um, bye?” Shelby says.

As they make their way out of the dorm, Toni says, “So, what gives? Why me over your best friend?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Did you finally get tired of that Southern accent?”

“I’m from Texas,” Dot says, giving her a look, “so, no. Just wanted to see you. Is that a crime?”

“I guess not,” Toni decides.

It’s still sort of weird having a friend other than, like, Martha, that would just decide to come see her for no reason, but Toni realizes it’s kind of nice as they’re sitting down at a local diner.

“So,” Dot says, cutting into her omelet, “What’s the deal with you and Shelby?”

Halfway into her first bite of French Toast, Toni’s jaw drops. “You need to stop ambushing me.” Dot just shrugs, looking highly unashamed. “Well, I don’t know. You tell me.”

“What?” Dot frowns into her coffee.

“You’re her best friend, right?” Toni says, shrugging. She takes pointed bite. “Doesn’t she tell you things?”

“Well, yeah,” Dot says. “I guess I’m just wondering what _your_ intentions are.” Toni freezes. Dot gives her a look. “You know, like with the fake dating thing?”

Toni coughs. “Oh, yeah.”

Unfortunately, she gets a front row seat to Dot’s epiphany. With slowly narrowing eyes, and a shit-eating grin spreading across her face, Dot says, “Unless…”

“No,” Toni says, holding up a finger. “No, no ‘unless.’”

“Unless you don’t _want_ it to be fake,” Dot says, ignoring her completely. She raises an eyebrow. “It’s fake… until it _isn’t_.”

“You’re unnecessarily dramatic,” Toni tells her. “And besides, I don’t think we should be having this conversation." She swallows a bite of omelet, and lets her fork wiggle around Dot’s face. “Aren’t you, like, a conflict of interest?”

“What?” Dot says, shaking her head. “No, I demand to know everything right this second.”

“There’s really nothing to say,” Toni sighs. She pokes at the syrup bottle, a poor attempt at deflection. “I don’t know, I mean, we’re fake-dating when it’s convenient, but in real life, we’re going on dates with other people and stuff.” She purses her lips. “Or, _she_ is.”

“Yeah, but a date is hardly a hand in marriage,” Dot says airily.

Toni’s eyes widen. “Woah. Who said anything about marriage?”

“Chill,” Dot says, throwing her a highly unimpressed beat of eye contact. “It’s an expression.” Doubtful, but Toni just lets Dot take an extremely drawn out bite of pancake, and then say, “Besides, she and Rachel? They're not really going to date.”

“What?” Toni demands, as nonchalantly as she can. “How do you know that?”

Based on the arch of Dot’s eyebrow, she wasn’t very successful at feigning casualty, but Dot doesn’t comment on it. “Because she told me. She said they decided they’re better as friends or something.”

“Huh.” Toni doesn’t really have much to say about that.

Apparently, Dot does, because she wiggles her eyebrows. “So? You gonna shoot your shot? Get that bread? Put all the eggs in one basket?”

“That’s a very strange way of speaking about your best friend,” Toni informs her. She chews on a piece of fruit for a second, and then, “And, besides, enough about me. How are _you_ doing?”

“Very subtle,” Dot says, rolling her eyes. “But I’ll allow it.” She shrugs. “I’m fine, I guess. Sort of having an existential crisis about what I’m going to do for the rest of my life, but whatever, ya know?”

“Join the club,” Toni sighs. “What are your plans after the gap year is done?”

“Isn’t that the question,” Dot mumbles. She stabs at a piece of sausage rather aggressively. “It’s just — you know about my dad, kind of. I put my whole life on hold for him. I didn’t do well in school, I never had any hobbies. Hell, I didn’t even have _friends_ , until Shelby in senior year, and that was only because he literally died.”

Toni sips her coffee. “Oh.”

Taking pity on the fact that Dot can clearly tell she has no fucking clue what to say about that, she cracks a smile. “It’s fine, dude. Just kind of frustrating. At the time it felt so obvious for me to take care of him, but…” she trails off, shrugging. “ _I’m_ the one who survived, and for what?”

“Well, what do you like to do?” Toni asks. “Now that you’re, you know, free of it all.”

“Cooking?” Dot offers, but it’s half-hearted at best. “I mean, I did a lot of the mealtimes, and I actually sort of like it.”

“I almost wanted to be a chef,” Toni offers. Dot raises an eyebrow at where Toni has mixed her eggs with ketchup, mustard, bacon, and syrup. “Okay, don’t be hating on this combination,” she says, shoving a large bite into her mouth. “But, yeah, my mom and I used to cook together.”

“But it’s not the same as, like, a _passion_ , or whatever,” Dot says, rolling her eyes. She stabs at her plate again. “Sometimes I think the whole idea of having a passion is overrated. Or nonexistent. Either one of those.”

“Basketball is my passion,” Toni says, frowning. “Guess I have to find a new one.” She coaxes Dot’s eye contact back. “So, what else do you like?”

“Hiking?” Dot says. “Like, backpacking and shit. I like being in nature. But that’s not, like, a job.”

“Says who?” Toni challenges. “You could become an influencer.”

“Gross,” Dot deadpans. “Never say that again.”

“I’m serious,” Toni laughs. “Like, look, start a YouTube channel, get Shelby to shout you out. You could literally get paid to hike and travel.”

“ _You_ could start a YouTube channel,” Dot fires back. “Teach all the youngin’s about basketball.”

“I’m not starting a YouTube channel,” Toni says, shaking her head. “No, that’s not happening.”

“But you want _me_ to?” Dot says, shaking her head.

“Yeah, you’re all charismatic and shit,” Toni says, squinting at her. She nods decisively. “Yeah, you’re very likable. Good for marketing.”

“Okay,” Dot snorts, “I’ll start a YouTube channel, and you can be my manager.”

“Deal,” Toni grins. She scoops up the last of her egg mixture, ignoring the look of absolute disgust on Dot’s face, and says, “What about Leah? Isn’t she doing a gap year, too? Aren’t you in the same boat then?”

“Uh, not really,” Dot says. She settles back into her chair. “No, Leah is going to be an English teacher.” There’s a proud sort of smile on her face when she says, “She’s had that planned for, like, forever. She’s taking a gap year to work on some shit before she starts college, that’s all.”

“Work on shit?” Toni asks. “Like, she’s a writer?”

“Oh,” Dot says, frowning a little. “I mean, eventually she’ll probably publish something. But, no, more like… family shit.”

“I’m sensing a pattern amongst your friend group,” Toni says. Unspoken is, _I’ll fit right in_.

“I can’t believe you just said ‘amongst,’” Dot laughs. “You and Leah are gonna get along great.” Her eyes light up, and for some reason it reminds Toni _so_ much of Shelby, and then Dot is saying, “I almost forgot, but speaking of Leah, what are you doing on Monday night?”

“Nothing?” Toni tries. Dot narrows her eyes. Toni tilts her head to one side. “Or, hanging out with you…?”

“Great!” Dot says, grinning. “We’re all meeting at ours for the last night of Hanukkah.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Toni asks, checking her phone for any texts from Martha.

“Me, Fatin, and Leah all live together,” Dot says, ticking them off on her fingers. She flips up a few more. “Shelby is coming, obviously. Rachel. And ordinarily Rachel’s sister, Nora, would be there, but she’s off in Europe or something.”

“You’re not sure?” Toni asks, thoroughly confused.

Dot shrugs. “She likes to solo travel, and sometimes we don’t hear from her for, like, a week. She’s just kind of like that.” She brightens. “But she’s always sending us cool stuff from other places.”

Hesitantly, Toni says, “I’m not Jewish though.”

“None of us are,” Dot says, waving her off. “Well, except Leah.” She catches Toni’s gaze. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to, like, know anything. It’s super chill. It’s basically just an excuse for us all to hang out, except with, like, latkes, and Leah does the candle thing sometime in the night.”

Toni really has no idea what that means, but at four in the afternoon on Monday, she gets stuffed into a car with Shelby at the wheel. It’s as nauseating as ever, but at least it’s a short drive, and Shelby keeps her occupied.

“What, no Martha?” Shelby asks, practically pouting.

“Uh, nah,” Toni says, clutching at her seatbelt. “She has a club meeting every Monday.”

“Hm,” Shelby says. She turns her head slightly, rolling her eyes at the way Toni is holding onto the strap of the belt for dear life. “Anyway, what did you get Leah?”

Toni wonders if this is what it’s like to have a heart attack. Lowering her voice, as if Leah is in the car or something, she whisper-yells, “I was supposed to _get_ her something?”

Shelby’s eyes widen, and they’re trained on Toni’s face for _far_ too long, but then she cracks into a smile, and turns back towards the road. “No, I’m just kidding. Sorry.”

“I see you haven’t gotten any funnier,” Toni mutters, slumping back against the seat. She crosses her arms. “Well, did _you_ get her anything?”

“Duh,” Shelby says, nodding towards the little gift bag in the back. “It’s a framed picture of her and Fatin from Disneyland.”

“That’s kind of cute,” Toni huffs, but it must come out much more mopey than she intended.

“Okay, Grinch,” Shelby says, shaking her head. “Whoops,” she mumbles, slamming on the gas to bypass a yellow light.

“Jesus Christ,” Toni says, feigning hyperventilation. Though, at this point, she’s not sure she’s actually faking it. “Isn’t Hanukkah, like, Jewish Christmas or something? _And_ she’s hosting? Maybe I should have gotten her something.”

“No,” Shelby says, waving her off. “Apparently that’s a myth.” She shrugs. “I mean, I wouldn’t know, but Leah said it’s just small presents on Hanukkah.” She throws Toni a grin far too wide to be genuine. “Besides, your presence is gift enough.”

“Right,” Toni snorts. “Try to sound more believable next time.” She pats at her jacket. “Shit. I forgot my B-Card.”

“I have mine,” Shelby says, waving her off. “Better be nice to me, though, or I might not let you back in to the dorm.”

All things considered, Toni isn’t exactly sure what she’s supposed to expect from Hanukkah. The only thing she remembers is that this is the last night, whatever that means, and that it’s a Jewish holiday, and that for some reason, all of Leah’s very not-Jewish friends celebrate with her.

With Toni in tow, Shelby navigates them into the complex, and up to the apartment door. They’re one foot in when the smoke alarm goes off.

“Fucking fuck,” Fatin swears.

“Starting off on a great foot,” Shelby notes, rolling her eyes.

“Are you gonna help or not?” Fatin demands. “These potatoes aren’t going to peel themselves. And there’s, like, hella to do.”

“And why is that?” Dot says, shoving a potato peeler into Shelby’s hands.

“Because I didn’t do the prep I was supposed to this morning,” Fatin sighs, staring forlornly at the pile of about a million thousand potatoes in front of her.

Setting the gift bag on the middle of the table, Shelby peers over at the crude work station Fatin has set up. “Dottie, these are, like, thirty potatoes. How many of these things do you think we’re gonna eat?”

“Leah says they’re good for breakfast,” Dot says, shrugging. “We can, uh, freeze them or something.” Slinging a towel onto her shoulder, she wipes her right hand across it, and turns towards the door. “Hey, Half-Pint. Come on, you can help me fry this shit.”

“Uh, no,” comes a familiar voice. Before Toni can take Dot’s invitation, Leah appears from around the corner, glasses hanging around her t-shirt. “No, Toni is a guest.” She points to a chair. “Sit.”

“Okay,” Toni mumbles. From where Shelby is apparently competing with Fatin over who can peel more efficiently, she catches Toni’s eye, and mouthes, _Authority_. With a scowl, Toni mouths, _Shut up_.

Leah presses a kiss to the top of Fatin’s head on her way to the fridge. For a half-second, Toni watches her root through their vegetable drawer that seems to be full of just Nestle cookie dough, and then she turns towards the centerpiece of the table. 

“So, that thing has a lot of… arms,” she observes.

“The menorah?” Leah asks, turning. She reaches over and pats the thing affectionately. “Yeah, one for each night.”

“There’s _nine_ nights of Hanukah?” Toni asks incredulously.

“Well, eight,” Leah says, pointing. “The one in the middle there is the shamash, and you just use it to light the rest of them.” Grinning, she adds, “Purim is February, and honestly, that holiday is a lot more fun.”

“Nothing is more fun than these chocolate coins,” Dot says, poking at the alarmingly large pile of them on the counter.

“She’s not even kidding,” Fatin says, rolling her eyes. “She’s been studying up on the rules of dreidel all week.”

“Still going to lose,” Shelby says, grinning in a way that is almost shockingly competitive.

“It’s a game of _luck_ ,” Leah says, shaking her head at them.

That might be true, Toni wouldn’t know, but it doesn’t stop Shelby and Dot from going at each other for the next hour about who’s going to be the dreidel champion, and as Rachel walks through the door holding a couple bottles of sparkling apple cider aloft like a prize, she soon joins in on the competition as well.

Toni learns what a latke is, and also learns that it somehow tastes good with both applesauce _and_ sour cream, a combination that shouldn’t really exist, but somehow works. She learns that even though Dot likes to cook, she’s not really that good at it, and learns that the apartment has a Backup Pizza Stash in the freezer for every time Dot says she’ll cook, but it doesn’t turn out. Tonight is one of those nights.

Despite watching about sixty rounds, Toni does _not_ learn the rules of dreidel, but decides that chocolate tastes better when it’s being eaten in the shape of a coin, even if she forgets the word for it while declaring her love.

Watching Rachel and Dot go at each other for about fifteen minutes over an accusation of cheating, to which Leah tries to tell them you _can’t_ cheat in dreidel, Toni just sits back and grins. Then, fishing out her phone, she mutters to Fatin something about going to check in on Martha, and wanders out to the balcony. 

She’s only just started getting her bearings in the stars above when she’s interrupted by the gentle tap of footsteps approaching. Though she expects it to be Dot, or even Shelby, when she turns, it’s Leah’s face that she sees. Stepping onto the balcony, Leah closes the door behind her, and greets her with just a soft, wordless smile.

They stand next to each other, staring up at the sky, and there’s a sort of melancholy look on Leah’s face as she gazes at the moon like it might speak to her.

It doesn’t, but Toni does, offering, “It’s nice and clear tonight,” like she’s a fifty-year-old weatherman or something.

Barely sparing her a glance, Leah just nods. “Yeah.” It’s not the most talkative Toni has ever seen her, but then she adds, “I never really understood star-gazing, if I’m being honest.”

“What are you looking at, then?” Toni asks.

Finally breaking her gaze, Leah looks over at her. “The moon,” she says. She shakes her head gently, hair falling across her face before she pushes it back behind her ear. “Me and Fatin have this thing with the moon.”

“Fatin and I,” Toni corrects automatically. She claps a hand over her mouth. “Fuck, I swear I’m not that kind of person.”

Leah, on the other hand, looks absolutely delighted. “Dot was right. You _are_ an English nerd.”

“No,” Toni vehemently denies. “I’m not, I swear.” And then, like it makes sense or something, she adds, “I'm not a nerd, no, I play basketball and shit.” Leah holds her hands up as if to say, _Alright_ , but her eyes are still smiling. Hurriedly, Toni prompts, “So, the moon?”

“Right,” Leah says, sighing. She flicks a gaze back towards the apartment, and then leans forward so her elbows rest against the balcony railing. “I actually grew up with Fatin. We’ve known each other since kindergarten.” She catches sight of Toni’s raised eyebrows, and says, “Don’t get excited. It’s not one of those cute best friend relationship stories.”

Toni frowns. “Oh.”

“I mean, we _were_ best friends,” Leah amends, nodding back up towards the sky. “And then middle school hit, and it all fell to pieces.” She sighs. “We didn’t talk again until our senior year of high school.” When she says, “And then it all just went from there,” she sighs again, but this time, it’s bursting with contentedness.

“Well, that’s still cute,” Toni offers.

“When we were seven,” Leah says, locking eyes with Toni, “she went on vacation to New York City or something. I don’t remember what for. But it was our first time not being at least thirty minutes from each other, and we were totally losing it.” She purses her lips. “And then my mom told us that no matter where we are in the world, we’ll be looking at the same moon.”

“Cheesy,” Toni coughs.

“Oh, hella,” Leah laughs, eyes sparkling. “But it got us to shut up. And every night she was gone, I said goodnight to the moon, and Fatin said goodnight to the one in New York, and we both knew we were saying it to each other.” Her smile falters. “And I swear to God, for every night we weren’t friends, I still said it.”

“That sounds like a lot of nights,” Toni says dumbly.

Fingers twisting around each other on the railing, Leah nods. “One-thousand-sixty-seven.”

“Jesus Christ,” Toni says before she can stop herself. She flushes. “I mean, wow.”

“That’s an estimate,” Leah teases. She shrugs. “But yeah. I’ll never look at the moon and not think about her.” She chews on her lower lip. “You know, you and Shelby kind of remind me of me and Fatin.”

Toni blinks. “Huh?”

“Well, after we gave each other the silent treatment for a few years,” Leah says, “we started fighting, like, relentlessly.” She lets out a puff of air. “I mean, God, we had English together our junior year, and we spent entire classes just arguing.” She lets out a laugh, tinged in frustration, but nostalgic more than anything. “I mean, once, she debated for forty-five minutes about the intelligence of Romeo just because she wanted to argue with me.”

“Well, he was an idiot,” Toni says, furrowing her eyebrows. “Everyone knows that.”

“Romeo was a romantic,” Leah says, holding up a finger.

Scoffing, Toni says, “Uh, no, he was a reckless frat boy who wanted to jump Juliet’s bones, and it got them both killed in the process.”

Leah blinks at her, and then grins. “See? Just like Fatin.”

“So you’re Shelby in this analogy?” Toni sighs.

Nodding seriously, Leah says, “Definitely. Just minus the accent, you know.”

Chuckling lightly, though it doesn’t really reach her whole body, Toni stares down at her fingers. “It’s weird. When I first met Shelby, she annoyed me to no end. And now, it’s like, all the things I hated about her are the things that I would say are her best qualities.”

“Oh?” Leah says, nudging Toni.

“I don’t know,” Toni sighs. She resists the urge to turn back towards the glass door. “She’s just this… bright, special person. She’s one of those people that everyone just loves, but she doesn’t even realize it.”

“She’s irritatingly humble, isn’t she?” Leah agrees. Cringing, she adds, “Probably more like low sense-of-self.” Toni just stares at her. Shrugging, Leah says, “I’ve done a lot of therapy. For Shelby, I’d guess it comes from the Becca thing.”

“Does everyone know about Becca except me?” Toni complains.

Leah bumps her shoulder against Toni’s again. “Hey. It means a lot that she _doesn’t_ want to tell you. It means she doesn’t want to lose you.”

Toni thinks on this. “Hm.” Leaning forward onto the railing, she turns. “Wait, what were we talking about?”

“Shelby?” Leah offers.

Unconsciously, Toni feels a little smile spread across her lips. “Right. Hard to believe I thought I was doomed when I met her that first day of school, and now I’m here with all friends celebrating Hanukkah of all things.”

Leah must catch the way her eyes trail around the sky with more purpose than just easy sweeping. “Do you know all the constellations and stuff? I never saw the appeal to stargazing.”

“So you said,” Toni nods. She traces Orion’s belt, down to Lepus, and even further to Sirius. “I don’t know. It’s fun, I guess.” Leah just stares at her. “Maybe not _fun_ ,” Toni allows, “but calming?”

“I could see that,” Leah hums. “It all just looks like stars to me.”

“It used to to me too,” Toni agrees, eyes automatically finding constellations where she used to strain to see anything at all. “But you get used to it. I always liked learning about the stories, and…” she hesitates.

“What?” Leah prompts.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s cheesy.”

“Cheesier than my thing?” Leah asks, eyebrow raised.

“You can be the judge of that,” Toni laughs. She tears her eyes away from Betelgeuse, and finds Leah already watching her. “Well, I was a foster kid, and I liked the idea of stars being always there. A constant, no matter how things changed.” She exhales, watching her breath cloud, and then dissipate. “And it always intrigued me that it was the one thing I couldn’t learn abut in real life, you know?” She gestures vaguely. “Like, it’s a star. It’s all the way up there.”

“Those dang stars,” Leah nods seriously, “playing hard to get.”

Grinning, Toni matches her nod. “Exactly.” And then she sobers, averting her gaze back up to find Perseus. “They’re these great, big, bright things. And to me, they’re so special. But to them? _I’m_ just one of a billion people looking up at them.”

“I guess so,” Leah says, frowning up at the sky.

Working her jaw silently, Toni doesn’t say that that’s a common theme among her life. Each new foster home was like coming home to heaven, but in reality, she was just another kid passing through. Family, friends, even relationships. To her, they’re everything. To them, she’s just something.

Trying to lighten the mood, Toni says, “ And what’s more on-brand for me than admiring things I can never have?”

Leah winces. “Oh.”

So, okay, maybe she should have chosen something a little less depressing for a mood-lightening attempt. In the end, Leah just laughs, tugs an arm around Toni’s shoulder, and promises her more chocolate.

There’s a feeling that’s been dwindling in her chest throughout the whole night. It started when she made eye contact with Dot over dinner, and immediately seemed to know what joke the Texan was going to make, remains through when Shelby passed her the salt without her needing to ask, and blossoms as Leah leads her back inside to crowd around the coffee table and get _way_ too into a game of dreidel.

The feeling, Toni decides, in the car ride home, is belonging.

“I would make a joke about not letting you in,” Shelby mumbles, swiping her B-Card at the entrance to their dorm, “but I’m too tired.”

As they climb the stairs, Toni wonders if now is a good time to ask Shelby about coming to Christmas with her, but her mouth and her brain don’t seem to be connected, and she just yawns.

The clock reads just past midnight when they finally get to their dorm, and they get ready for bed under dim lights and a blanket of silence. Predictably, Toni is sliding under her sheets before Shelby, because apparently no matter how tired she is, Shelby _still_ makes sure to get ready for the next day.

Toni just watches her, which should be creepy, but is kind of just a calming past time now. Only when Shelby is satisfied with her clothing layout does she also climb into bed, and that’s when Toni breaks the silence.

“Hey, uh, thanks for inviting me tonight,” she says, huddling under her covers.

With an outstretched hand, Shelby lowers her bedside lamp, and flops back onto her pillow. “I _didn’t_ invite you.”

“Right,” Toni says, nodding, “but, like, I know Dot must have asked you first. And so thanks. For letting her do that.”

“Why do we always have our little heart-to-hearts at night?” Shelby muses. Her hair is all piled up on the top of her head, which Toni has never understood the comfort of, but it makes her look all soft and stuff. Like the Lorax or something.

“Maybe I’m just so tired I have no filter,” Toni offers. She wets her lips. “Look, I really mean it. Your friends are cool.”

“They better be,” Shelby says, smiling, “because you’re one of us now.” One hand slides up and out of her bundle of blankets, and points at Toni. “We’re called the Unsinkable Six. Seven, with you. Or even eight, if Martha wants in.”

“Why are you unsinkable?” Toni asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Because all of us know how to swim,” Shelby says, shrugging.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Toni tells her. Shelby doesn’t look the least bit offended, and Toni starts to wonder when her bite lost its, well, its bite. She purses her lips. And then, though for the life of her she’ll never know why, she adds, “It’s just, I haven’t had a friend group like that in a while, so.”

A grin spreads across Shelby’s face. “Are you trying to be sentimental right now?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Are you about to make a speech?”

“No,” Toni scowls. “Maybe.” Her face burns, and she resists the urge to flip Shelby off. “Do you wanna hear it or not?”

“Please,” Shelby says, her picture sobering into the pinnacle of innocence. There’s still a stupid little smile on her face, and there’s a look in her eyes that’s just so soft that Toni doesn’t know what to do with it.

In the end, she decides to close her eyes, and without Shelby’s face overloading her senses, she collects her thoughts. “Well, after my brain injury, I kind of lost, like, all my friends.” She pauses. “Except Martha. And then we graduated, and now…” she trails off, but Shelby seems to get the message.

“Sounds like you were just waiting for your chosen family,” Shelby says, shrugging. 

“‘Chosen family?’” Toni stares at her incredulously. “That’s the whitest thing you’ve ever said.”

Shelby cracks a smile. “I mean it, though. It’s just about finding the people who are meant to be in your life forever.” There’s a sort of starry-eyed-look in her eyes when she says, “Dot and I got close in our senior year of high school. Then, we came here together, and literally just bumped into Leah. Like, physically.” She scoots a little further towards the edge of the mattress closest to Toni. “From there, we got Fatin, and Fatin picked up Rachel, who brought along her sister Nora.” She arches an eyebrow. “And then you.”

“I think the universe did that one,” Toni tells her.

“Yeah,” Shelby agrees. She pauses. “Have you seen Lilo and Stitch?”

“My sister is Martha,” Toni says, “so, yes.”

“Well, you know how Stitch is, like, a feral demon, and then Lilo takes him home and tames him?” Shelby presses.

“I just said I’ve seen the movie,” Toni sighs, knowing exactly where this is going. She arches an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you’re Lilo?”

“Uh, no,” Shelby scoffs, “I’m Nani. _Martha_ is Lilo. Dot is David.”

“Aren’t Nani and David, like, married?” Toni says with a little laugh. “What, you and Dot hook up or something?” Shelby doesn't say anything, but the little shrug, and the pink in her cheeks is telling enough. “Oh, my God.”

“Once!” Shelby practically growls. She pulls her blankets up to her cheeks. “It was _one_ time.”

“So, like, was it not good, or…?” Toni wiggles her eyebrows.

“Actually, it was exceptional,” Shelby says, puffing out her cheeks. “It was one time because we’re _friends_ ,” she says, glaring at Toni. “I’ll have you know I took very good care of Dot.”

“Oh, _you_ took care of Dot?” Toni says, not even trying to hide her disbelief.

“We’re not having this argument again,” Shelby tells her, clicking her tongue. “Besides, can we talk instead about how your friends just dropped you after a life-changing injury that was totally out-of-your-control?” She frowns. “That’s… no. When someone is your friend, you’re there for them. Always.”

Shaking her head as best she can against her pillow, Toni sighs. “It wasn’t their fault. We were just kids, they didn’t get it. And I just never had time to do anything because I was busy trying to fix my life. Plus, I was kind of a drag to be around back then.”

“Is that different from now?” Shelby asks.

Toni rolls her eyes, because since when does anything Shelby says deserve another response, but she has to admit the bad jokes are a welcome distraction. She peeks through one eye. “Yeah, well, you don’t like current-me? You should have seen junior year Toni.”

There’s a pause, and a stormy sort of conflict clouds across Shelby’s eyes. Her lip twitches, and she almost leans forward a bit when she says, “I do, though.” She waits, eyes wide, and then adds, “Like you, I mean. I do like you.”

“Thanks,” Toni says, feeling her cheeks heating up. Shelby just frowns at her disapprovingly, and her eyes practically scream _Say it!_ , and Toni wonders how a look can convey a Southern accent. The look increases. “Oh, my God,” she mutters, “yeah, I like you, too.” She buries herself under the covers even more. “Enough of that. Time to go to sleep.”

“You’re not very good at sappy stuff,” Shelby tells her, and the amusement written across her smile is much too evident.

“Yeah, I’m not used to people saying nice things to me,” Toni says, sighing. It’s supposed to be a joke. Awkwardly, she says, “Not to kill the mood or anything.”

It _definitely_ killed the mood, but Shelby just offers her more of the same, stupid smile that’s warmed easily by the look in her eyes. “Well, get used to it.” She rolls onto her back, but her head stays turned towards Toni. “Good night, Stitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for all the comments as always <3
> 
> tumblr: quinnfebrey  
> twitter: miataylorhealey


	8. eight

**Alex M**

**[12:34 PM]:** What are you doing rn

**[12:36]:** sleeping

**[12:36]:** Wrong

**[12:41 PM]:** pray tell

**[12:41 PM]:** I’m outside ur dorm

**[12:41 PM]:** pray tell???

**[12:42 PM]:** Get dressed and come out

If it were any other person, except maybe Martha — or Dot, or Shelby, or Leah, or Bernice — Toni would try to argue. As it is, she just sighs and slithers her way out of bed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants over her shorts, and grabbing a UCLA sweatshirt on her way out.

As she tugs it over her head, she wonders why it smells different than usual, but it’s not necessarily a _bad_ smell. If she’d smelled more than one perfume in her entire life, she might be able to pick out the scent, but she _does_ identify that it’s all flowery and comforting.

“Hey, T,” Alex greets. She looks her up and down. “What’s with the sweat-fit?”

“It’s cold?” Toni offers. She crosses her arms. “What’s, um… what are you doing here?”

“That’s no way to speak to your elder,” Alex scoffs, looking particularly affronted. She breaks out into a smile again, though, and throws an arm around her shoulder. Toni vaguely registers that people have been doing that a _lot_ to her lately, like she’s short or something.

She’s not putting up much of a fight, which is why Alex pretty easily starts steering her towards Bruin Walk. “Seriously, where are we going?” she tries. “Is this some hazing attempt? Because I think that’s supposed to happen at the _beginning_ of the year.”

“Relax,” Alex says, rolling her eyes. “You’re having lunch with me.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Toni mutters.

“I know,” Alex says, “that’s why I made you come outside before I told you.”

“At least you’re honest about ambushing me,” Toni says. She shrugs Alex’s arm off her shoulders, which opens her up to the fact that it’s extremely cold outside. She tugs her hood up.

“I need to use up some swipes,” Alex says, holding up her B-Card, “and you need to eat something.”

“Shit, I forgot mine,” Toni groans. She looks around, as if Shelby might appear out of thin air or something. “God, I’m going to have to beg my roommate to let me in or something.”

“The roommate you have a crush on?” Alex asks, tilting her head in an effort to feign nonchalance. It is _so_ not effective when paired with her shit-eating grin.

“I’m not talking about this with you,” Toni says, shaking her head. “But I will accept the free meal because you know I’m on a scholarship.”

“And thank God you are,” Alex agrees, pulling her quickly in front of a couple students also walking up to the entrance to B-Plate. Quickly, she swipes her card twice, saying, “Honestly, I wasn’t sure about UCLA’s future in D1 basketball. I mean, in terms of winning the championship.”

“Oh?” Toni snorts, following Alex loosely like a lost puppy. “Me, the saving grace of the NCAA?”

Alex shrugs. “Sure. You have what it takes to be captain.” Toni stares at her. “What? I’m serious. You just need to stop being so anti-social.”

“What do you mean?” Toni pouts, trailing her over to the pizza counter. “I’m here having lunch with you, aren’t I?”

“Because I _forced_ you to,” Alex points out, sending an eyebrow raise back at her. “Not to mention, before this, I haven’t seen you outside of practice in weeks.”

Staring at the pizza options, Toni huffs, and folds her arms. “I’ll have you know that I celebrated the last night of Hanukkah last week with no less than five friends.”

Waving airily, Alex continues on to the salad bar, inspecting it lightly, and then moving towards the soups. “I meant the team, T. Be social with your _teammates_.”

Narrowing her eyes at the Minestrone label, Toni’s shoulders slump. “Oh.” Alex starts to wander away, and Toni groans. “Oh, my God. Just pick something.”

“You have no patience,” Alex says, reaching over to tug on the front of one of her hoodie strings. She nods across the walkway. “Pasta. Okay?” Toni nods, so Alex leads them over. Smiling over the counter, she says, “Hi! Can I get fettucine with alfredo sauce and shrimp?” Turning towards Toni she adds, “So, how are finals going?”

Toni freezes. “Finals. Right. Really good.”

Eyes on the construction of her food, Alex says, “You know, part of being an athlete here includes grades.”

“I know,” Toni sighs. She swallows, watching as the noodles and sauce spin around in the bowl, and tries to collect her thoughts. “I know, and don’t worry about it.”

“‘Kay,” Alex says, though she doesn’t look the least bit convinced. She nudges Toni as she grabs her tray. “I’m gonna go find a place to sit.”

Ten minutes later, Toni finds Alex at maybe the most coveted table in the entire cafeteria. Setting her tray down, she laughs, “What, did you bully some freshman out of here?”

“Maybe,” Alex says slyly. Then, “No, of course not. I’m nice to you frosh. I just stood here and politely waited until they were done.”

“Right,” Toni grins, rolling her eyes. They light up when her gaze lands on the drink slid in front of her. “Shit, thanks.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Alex says, wrinkling her nose. “You and your nasty orange Gatorade.”

“It’s fucking good,” Toni says, taking a long drawn out sip. “Delicious.”

Chewing on a bite of pasta, Alex twirls her fork in her plate, and then looks up. “God, I can’t believe I’m going to be a second semester senior.”

“And the drat is soon,” Toni says, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Alex sighs, shoving another forkful into her mouth. Mumbling around a shrimp, she says, “I have this reoccurring dream I just don’t get picked.”

“Yeah, right,” Toni says, shaking her head. She pries a meatball apart with her fork, ignoring the way Alex pointedly slides her knife over. “You’re going to be, like, _first_ pick.”

“I better be,” Alex agrees. She reaches for her drink. “After all, gotta go somewhere cool for us, right?” She wiggles her eyebrows over her cup. “I’m still counting on you coming out to be my partner in four years.”

Ah, fuck.

If ever there was the perfect opprotunity to confess… well, everything, now seems like a pretty good time.

Setting her fork down, Toni sighs. “Alex, I — I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Alex says, smiling a little hesitantly. When Toni doesn’t add anything else, her expression drops significantly. “Wait, T, is it, like, serious?”

“I guess,” Toni says. Nibbling on her lower lip, she opens her mouth to say something casual, cool, and maybe a little funny, but what comes out is, “I’m retiring from basketball.”

She winces in time perfectly to the actual jaw drop that comes from Alex. “You’re kidding,” she says, and it’s somewhere in between a statement, a question, and a plea all at once. “This is a joke.”

“Ah, no,” Toni says, cringing. “Sorry. I was trying to be subtle.”

“Epic failure there,” Alex says, tossing her a small smile. It fades quickly, though, as she says, “I… don’t get it.”

Wetting her lips, Toni takes a deep breath. “When I was in high school, I had a pretty bad brain injury.”

“What?” Alex’s eyebrows knit together. “How bad? What happened?”

“Well,” Toni says, laughing nervously, “funny you should ask. I don’t actually remember what happened.”

“Oh, shit,” Alex says. She pauses, fork frozen in the pile of noodles on her plate. And then, she puts the pieces together. “So when you hit your head at that game…”

“That’s why my symptoms were, like, overly severe,” Toni says, nodding. “When you’ve had brain trauma before, you become more sensitive to it.”

Blinking, Alex still looks confused. “But if this happened in high school, that means you still knowingly signed with UCLA.”

“How could I not?” Toni says helplessly, looking around. “Shit, Alex. The dorms and dining alone is, like, eighteen grand, plus out-of-state tuition is another thirty, not including books.”

“What changed?” Alex asks, still looking earnestly confused.

Staring down at her hands, she says, “Look, it wasn’t an option. I needed that scholarship.” And then, after three valiant efforts to say more, Toni finally breathes, “But I’m scared, Al.” She swallows. “I’m scared I’m going to hit my head again, I’m scared that I — it was bad. The first time. It was bad.”

“I get that,” Alex says, shaking her head. “I do, I get it. But I just —“ she pauses, taking a deep breath. Locking eyes with Toni, her blue eyes are as intense as ever, though not unkind as she says, “Who knows what?”

“So far,” Toni says, breaking away to stare at the ceiling, “just you.”

She hears a sharp intake of breath, and then a soft, “Jesus.” Then a clatter of a fork, and then Alex saying, “So, coach as been playing you as if there’s nothing wrong?” Toni nods. “Toni.”

“I know,” Toni sighs, letting her gaze drop to Alex’s face. “Trust me. Which is why I’m going to drop out.”

“Of UCLA?” Alex asks, looking outraged.

“Well, if I’m not playing, I don’t think they’ll let me stay,” Toni says. She clenches her jaw, hoping it’ll hide the tremble in her lower lip but it never does.

Of course, Alex notices right away, and reaches out a hand. “Hey. T. I’ll help you with this. We’ll find a way to get you on an academic scholarship or something.”

“Yeah, the other issue is that I haven’t been doing so well lately,” Toni says, her lips turning up into a nervous smile. “That fall in that game kind of did a number on me, and like, I’m getting better, but I can’t compete for a scholarship with some nerd with straight A’s.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Alex promises. She raises her eyebrows. “Got it?”

Toni sighs, then nods. “Yeah, okay.”

“So, when are you going to tell coach?” Alex asks, returning to her pasta. Toni shrugs. “Alright, well, we can talk about that later.” Fork paused halfway to her mouth, she adds, “Actually, we’re going to talk about _all_ of this later, because I still don’t know what the fuck you just confessed to me.”

“I’ll schedule you in,” Toni says, laughing in time to an exhale that’s shaky with relief. 

“Well, if we’re changing the subject, how about your roommate?” Alex tries.

“Ah, no,” Toni says, shaking her head. “One confession per week is my limit. Try again later.” She frowns. “Like, actually though, I should probably make sure I can get back into my dorm.”

**shelby**

**[1:18 PM]:** hey, u home?

**[1:19 PM]:** I will be soon  
 **[1:19 PM]:** Why?

**[1:23 PM]:** i forgot my b card :(

**[1:24 PM]:** Again?   
**[1:25 PM]:** As dot would say: dude.

**[1:26 PM]:** will you let me in or not  
 **[1:28 PM]:** i’ll bring you whatever  
you want from b-plate

**[1:29 PM]:** Blueberry muffin?

**[1:31 PM]:** see u soon

Although Toni never intended to spill her guts to Alex — and quite frankly, she didn’t even intend to _see_ her today, she has to admit she feels considerably lighter as she walks back to her dorm with a blueberry muffin tucked under her arm. It’s almost like talking about your worries is good for you or something.

A quick ‘here’ text rewards her with Shelby coming around the corner a couple seconds later. Pushing the door open from the inside, she immediately zeroes in on Toni’s sweatshirt. “Why are you wearing my hoodie?”

“Excuse me?” Toni says, staring down in horror. “No, this is mine.”

“Uh, no,” Shelby says, letting the door swing shut behind them. She brushes by Toni to lead them over to the staircase, but makes sure to poke her in the shoulder on her way. “This is _definitely_ mine.”

“Is that why it smells like this?” Toni mutters. She rolls her eyes, and just crosses her arms as if to defend the jacket from Shelby. “Well, I’m cold, and I’m already wearing it, so you can have it back later.”

“It looks better on you anyway,” Shelby says, tossing her a wink. She swipes her card again at their door, while Toni’s Nutribulleted-brain tries to catch up.

“Uh, okay,” is all that she comes up with. And then, thrusting her hand out, “Here. Got you a muffin.”

“Thanks, Kellogg!” Shelby says brightly. 

Toni frowns, launching herself back onto her bed. “Kellogg?”

“Yeah,” Shelby says, spinning around in her desk chair. “You know, Tony the Tiger? Frosted Flakes? Kellogg?”

Toni thinks on this, and then, after a quick Google search, grins triumphantly. “I choose _that_ nickname. Tony the Tiger is seven feet tall.”

“Never mind,” Shelby says immediately. She squints. “I’m going for realism, ya know?” She gestures to the simple video equipment she has set up. “You don’t mind if I film a YouTube video, do you?”

“I guess not,” Toni says warily. She tries to make out what’s on Shelby’s desk, but gives up within seconds. “What’s the video?”

“Study with me, UCLA finals edition,” Shelby says thematically. She frowns. “Or, something like that. It’s a working title.”

“Fuck,” Toni groans, flopping all the way onto her back. “Finals.”

“You all set, then?” Shelby asks, eyeing her from her desk. She gets a vague thumbs up, but Toni’s eyes are closed, so she can’t guarantee it’s actually right-side up. “You should get accommodations or something. You know, ‘cause of your head?”

“Maybe,” Toni agrees, peeking an eye open, “if they knew about it.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Shelby looks a _lot_ like Alex when she says, “The school doesn’t know about your brain injury?” Toni shakes her head. “Why not?”

“Because they would never have signed me to play basketball,” Toni sighs. She starts to roll over onto her stomach, but stops when she notices Shelby obviously wants to say something.

Fidgeting in place, the desk chair squeaks under her a couple times, and then she says, “I could help you study.”

Toni considers this for all of six seconds. “I genuinely can’t think of anything worse.”

“I thought we were friends now,” Shelby pouts.

Sighing, Toni amends, “Not because it’s _you_ , because it’s _studying_.” Swallowing, she flicks her gaze up to the ceiling to avoid Shelby’s eyes — something that has become more frequent, not that she notices — and says, “Look, I’m all tired and shit right now. And I can just tell I won’t be able to focus or anything.” She shrugs. “And it’s better to not try than to fail, ya know?”

From the looks of it, Shelby wants to argue, but whether she doesn’t think it’s worth it, or whether Toni’s pleading eyes manage to beg enough, she just says, “Alright then,” and turns back around.

For a few minutes, Toni just lays there, listening to Shelby. With a much too upbeat voice for the middle of dead week, Shelby rattles off her study plan for the day, and then shows off some new pens she has just been absolutely _loving_ over the past semester — no doubt sponsored.

It’s only after close to forty-five minutes of fruitlessly flipping around to try to get comfortable enough to fall asleep that Toni realizes she’s not even tired, she’s just fucking sad.

If her brain weren’t soup — and, like, gross French onion, not any of that good clam chowder shit — she’d reach for her copy of The Battle of the Labyrinth, but she already knows there’s no way it’s happening, so instead she fumbles around for her basketball shoes.

Making sure to stay out of the camera’s viewfinder, she quickly slips into shorts and an old UCLA t-shirt, and after narrowing her eyes at the clouds forming outside, tugs the sweatshirt she was wearing before back on.

“The thing I always mess up is the difference between geminal and vicinal,” Shelby says, laughing at herself into the camera. “I know one means there’s two Hydroxyl groups on one carbon, and one means they’re on adjacent carbons, but I can never remember which is which.” Raising her eyebrows, she lets a little smirk toy in her lips, and then says, “So, if you’ve taken O Chem too, drop in the comment section any tricks you have to remember!”

The smile maintains for a few seconds, and then drops. Pausing at the door, Toni says, “God, you really have the persona down well.”

“Up into about two years ago, that _was_ me,” Shelby says, shrugging. Her gaze flickers to the camera hesitantly, then back to Toni. “Thank God for editing, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Toni agrees. She wets her lips, then, says, “But, I mean, the real you isn’t so bad.” Tilting her head to one side, she adds, “And actually, I think I _prefer_ the real you.”

“Well, then that makes six of you,” Shelby says, ticking them off on her fingers. “Dot, Leah, Fatin, Rachel, and Nora. You makes six.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Toni observes, “You’re not on that list?”

Shelby shrugs. “Why would I be?”

It’s a depressing perspective, sure, but Toni relates, so she just hoists her backpack higher onto her shoulders. “Alright. Well, your subscribers might surprise you is all I’m saying.” She mimes shooting a basket. “I’m gonna go hang out at the courts for a bit.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Shelby looks like she wants to argue about that too, but she just says, “Well, okay. Have fun, Michelangelo.”

Toni shakes her head. “What?”

“The Ninja Turtle,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. “You look all turtle-like with that backpack on. So, then, the Ninja Turtles, and Michelangelo is the best one.”

“Your nicknames are getting way too obscure,” Toni tells her.

“Sorry you’re not cultured,” Shelby huffs.

“Sorry the first thing I think of when I hear ‘Michelangelo’ isn’t a fucking turtle,” Toni throws back. Always quick to rile up, Toni’s words are fiery as always, but then, and this is where the line between friendship has most certainly been crossed, she smiles. “See you in a few hours, I guess.”

“Don’t forget your B-Card,” Shelby calls, nodding towards the bowl she bought for them to leave their keys, which Toni has begrudgingly begun using.

“Oh, shit,” Toni says, reaching back for it. Quickly, she says, “Thanks, ba…by.” And then, “No!” Shelby raises her eyebrows. Reddening, Toni stammers through, “No, no, I accidentally meant to say ‘babe’”— as if that’s not somehow worse —“but then I started to say ‘Shelby.’”

“And thus, a baby was born,” Shelby says, nodding lightly. Then, a shit-eating grin spreads across her cheeks. “I got that on camera by the way.”

“Alright, fuck off,” Toni mutters, slamming her way out the door.

The cool air is welcome on her still furiously blushing cheeks, and the walk to the practice courts is as calming as ever. Toni wonders what she’s supposed to do when she’s not on campus anymore.

She starts slowly, taking her time warming up for once. Her brain is already doing its best impression of a hamster rolling around in a plastic ball, so she’s not about to risk tearing anything either. As she moves on to jogging around the court with a ball bouncing rhythmically in and out of her hand, she forces herself to let her thoughts fade into the sound, and to focus on nothing but the pump of her legs.

_Enjoy this_ , she practically demands of herself. _Enjoy this while you can_.

It occurs to her then that basketball is quickly becoming yet another thing she just isn’t allowed to have.

She falls into line shooting baskets easily, and there's a soothing aspect to the repetition of lining up for shots, and then jogging around to retrieve all the balls to go again. The last of her four basketballs are lined up for another round when she hears a set of footsteps. The squeak of shoe on the court sends an instant sigh through her, and she’s wondering if she can convince them this is a closed practice or something.

Then, “Looking good, Short-Stack.”

Toni spins around. “Dot?”

“Hey,” Dot grins, saluting.

“What are you doing here?” Toni laughs, though it’s quizzical as she walks over.

Tucking her hands into her pockets, Dot says, “Well, I stopped by your dorm. Shelby said you might be practicing.” She holds out a water. “Also said you forgot this.”

“Oh, thank God,” Toni mumbles, suddenly realizing she _is_ super thirsty. She lets Dot lead them into sitting against the wall, and also into an easy silence. She takes a few sips of water, and then says, “I told my teammate about my brain injury.”

She wonders if she should be surprised at the look of absolute shock on Dot’s face, but Dot’s voice is kind as ever when she says, “And?”

Toni shrugs. “It was fine. I mean, I’m glad I told her.” She stares down at the water bottle. “I told her I’m retiring. So, it feels good to have that off my chest, I guess, but now I’m faced with a million other problems.”

“Which are?” Dot prompts.

“What I’m going to do when I don’t have my sports scholarship,” Toni sighs. She stares up at the ceiling. “You need good scores to get in, even if you’re an athlete, but it’s not like I had stuff that would have gotten me in _without_ basketball.”

“College isn’t everything,” Dot reminds her, nudging her with her shoulder until Toni looks back at her. “I mean it.”

“Yeah, maybe for some people,” Toni says skeptically. “But me? Without college I have literally no future.”

“What makes you say that?” Dot asks, reaching up to brush a tuft of hair back out of Toni’s eyes. Toni puffs out her cheeks because God, she hasn’t thought about it in a long time.

“I gave basketball everything,” Toni says simply. Dot just watches her, and eventually, she continues, “After my brain injury, I was pretty messed up. Like, cognitively. Reading, writing, doing math, remembering words, focusing on anything.” She clenches her jaw. “Like, even doing things I _liked_ was hard. Suddenly, I couldn’t read for fun. I couldn’t cook without checking a recipe sixteen times every step because as soon as I finished reading it, I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. There was no escape from it.” She rolls a ball between her fingers, and then lets it tumble onto Dot’s lap, who picks it up and examines it like it’s Toni’s brain itself. “But with basketball, it didn’t matter that my head was all fucked up because my _body_ remembered. And it meant the world that I still had something useful in me.”

“Honestly, Half-Pint, I don’t know what to say,” Dot says finally. She looks as though she’s searching for something, but comes up empty, and just shrugs.

“That’s okay,” Toni says. She plasters on a quick smile. “Dot, it’s fine.”

They share a comfortable silence, and right as Toni is wondering when Dot is going to say something, Dot starts looking at _her_ in the same way. After a couple beats more of waiting, she sighs, and prompts, “I might not have much advice, but I’m an excellent listener.”

“It’s stupid,” Toni mumbles.

“No,” Dot says firmly. “Nothing you’re feeling is stupid.”

“Maybe you should become a therapist,” Toni sighs.

Dot raises an eyebrow. “That’s deflection behavior.”

Toni raises an eyebrow back. “See?” Dot doesn’t back down at all, and holds their eye contact for an unnervingly long amount of time. Sourly, Toni slumps against the wall. “Alright, fine. I’m just tired of being left behind, I guess.”

“I don’t follow,” Dot frowns. “Left behind by who?”

Resisting the urge to say, _Everyone_ , Toni settles on, “Just life, I guess.” She stares up towards the skylights. “Left behind by the foster system, then all my friends after the brain injury. I thought I caught up when I came here with Martha, but that was when we thought she’d do her thing, and I’d do my thing.” She gives the basketball a rueful nudge with her toe. “Guess not.”

“I think you should talk to Rachel,” Dot decides.

“Um, why?” Toni asks.

Cryptic as ever, Dot just gives a little shrug. “Can’t tell you that.”

“I lasted all of one semester,” Toni mutters. She weakly tries for a smile. “Will I count as an alumna if I didn’t even do a whole year?”

“Look, dude, fuck college,” Dot declares. She grins. “And move in with me.”

Toni tucks her knees up to her chest. “Don’t you live with Fatin and Leah?”

“You ever lived with a couple?” Dot asks, eyebrows raised. She shudders. “No can do anymore. I’m moving into another unit in their complex.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “It’ll be cheaper if we split a two-bedroom.”

“Maybe,” Toni says, still frowning.

“Hey, man, speaking of couples,” Dot says, seemingly trying to distract Toni. “Are you asking Shelby to Christmas, or what?”

Toni gives Dot a very pointed glance, but says, “I don’t know. Why?”

“Well, it’s in, like, three weeks,” Dot says. She sighs. “The rest of us all planned to go camping, so that’s what we’re doing. But Shelby is waiting on committing to that because she thinks you might ask her to visit.” Toni doesn’t say anything. Dot waves a hand around. “So? Do I tell her to come on our trip, or is she going to Minnesota?”

Picking at the hem of her shorts, Toni forces a smile at nothing in particular. “Have a good time camping.” Dot frowns. Toni meets her eyes, and tries for a wider smile. “Really, she’ll have a lot more fun with you guys.”

Dot searches her face as if looking for a sign she’s going to change her mind. When Toni doesn’t offer anything, she says, “Alright.” And then, “I don’t know why you’re fighting this.”

“Fighting what?” Toni asks innocently.

“There you go deflecting again,” Dot points out.

“It’s not deflection,” Toni sighs, “it’s denial.”

Rolling her eyes, Dot pushes herself to her feet, and then stands over Toni with a hand out. “Alright, c’mon, Half-Pint. Enough moping. Let’s do what I came here to do in the first place.”

Clasping their hands together, Toni let’s Dot pull her up. Warily, she asks, “And what’s that?”

The answer is somewhat given as Dot leads her out of the courts, through campus, and up to a car Toni recognizes from being parked outside their complex. In the passenger seat sits Fatin, feet up on the dashboard, phone in hand.

“You just left her in there this whole time?” Toni asks, shooting Dot a quizzical look.

“I cracked the windows,” Dot shrugs. “It works for babies, right?”

Toni’s eyes widen even further. “Um, _no.”_

“Tonya,” Fatin greets as Toni slides into the backseat. “What’s the hold up?”

“I think the real question is what are we doing?” Toni asks. She looks around. “Am I being kidnapped?”

“You willingly got into the car,” Fatin reminds her. “Dorothea is going grocery shopping.”

“So what are _you_ doing?” Toni clarifies.

“Fatin comes to keep me company,” Dot explains. “I run all the errands for the apartment one day a week, and she just comes to sit in the car and hang out with me.”

“Dorothea packs me snacks,” Fatin says, holding up a USC-adorned lunch box.

“That’s terrible,” Toni says, pointing to the gold emblem vomited all over the bright red cloth. Then she frowns. “And _that’s_ kind of sweet, actually.”

“Right?” Fatin grins, glancing over at Dot. “If it doesn’t work out with me and Leah, she’s next in line.”

“You wish,” Dot laughs.

“Wait,” Toni says, shaking her head as Dot pulls out of the lot. “So then what am _I_ doing here?”

“You’re going to help me pick out Christmas presents,” Dot says, glancing back at her through the rearview mirror.

“From the grocery store?” Toni asks.

“Groceries are after,” Dot says, rolling her eyes. “We’re brainstorming first.”

Sighing, Toni tries, “If I convert to Judaism, do I still have to do this?”

“What’s with you drinking the Hatorade?” Fatin says, frowning back at her. “You and Christmas have a fight or something?”

“Just not excited about it,” Toni mumbles. She slides down further into her seat until the cross-body part of the seatbelt brushes at her ear. “Christmas isn’t so fun when you’re, like, poor, you know?”

“It’s not about the gifts, man, it’s about the _vibes_ ,” Dot says, as if that makes any sense. She rolls to a stop as the light flips to yellow, and casts another backwards glance. “We gotta get you into a better mood.” She nudges Fatin. “Any ideas?”

“In-n-out,” Fatin suggests, pointing towards the drive-thru up ahead.

Dot nods. “Bingo.” She flicks on her blinker, and calls into the backseat, “You wanna go eat?”

“I don’t have any money,” Toni sighs.

“I didn’t ask if you had money,” Dot says, raising an eyebrow. 

Ten minutes later, they’re pulled into the drive-thru, and Dot rolls down the window as the employee walks up to their car with his little tablet. She takes her time ordering, then turns it over to Fatin, who then looks at Toni expectantly.

“I told you I don’t have any money,” Toni repeats, because she’s sick of not being able to go out with friends, and even more sick of paying them back with cash she doesn’t have.

Dot turns to the employee. “For her, could I get a double-double, no onions?” She taps on her chin for a couple seconds, then looks back at Toni as if sizing her up. “And animal fries.”

“What do you want to drink?” Fatin asks.

“Water’s fine,” Toni says, flushing.

“She’ll have a Dr. Pepper,” Fatin says, smiling brightly at the employee.

Once the food is acquired, Dot pulls off into a parking space so they can eat. “So,” she says, biting into her protein style — which, ew — burger, “what are you getting Shelby for Christmas?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Toni lies through a mouthful of fries.

Shaking her head disapprovingly, Fatin says, “Really? I had higher standards for you.”

“Okay, I’ll just pretend not to be offended,” Toni scoffs. The two of them are still staring her down in a way that is surprisingly effective, and caving, she sighs, “Well, if you must know, I had an idea, but it’s… I don’t know.”

Fatin blinks. “Well?”

Toni frowns. “Well, what?”

Fatin blinks harder. “Well, what _is_ it?”

“Oh,” Toni says, blushing. “Um, so, I was thinking of getting her tickets to the planetarium.”

Dot makes a very unimpressed noise that isn’t really building any confidence. “You’re getting her tickets to go by herself?”

“I mean, I guess I meant _us_ ,” Toni mumbles.

Over the top of her triple-triple, Fatin’s eyes light up. “Like a date?”

“No,” Toni coughs, “no, not like a date. Like a… friendship hang-out.” She nods. “You know, like people do.”

“Well, then can I come?” Dot asks.

“I always wanted to go to the planetarium,” Fatin says with an almost mocking thoughtfulness. “You know, Leah and I have that thing about the moon.”

“Yeah, man, let’s all go then,” Dot says, wiggling her eyes slyly.

Toni glares at her. “Guys, no.”

“So then it _is_ a date,” Dot says, grinning triumphantly. 

“It’s not a date,” Toni says sourly. “It’s a friendship hang-out for just the two of us, okay?”

“Also,” Fatin points out, chewing, “she hasn’t even said yes.”

Toni pales. “You don’t think she’ll say yes?”

Rolling her eyes, Dot mimes giving Fatin a little smack, and then turns to Toni to reassure her with, “She’ll definitely say yes. And that’s a great gift idea. Good job, Half-Pint.” She nods resolutely. “Okay, so what about Leah?”

“ _Leah_ gets Christmas presents?” Toni whines. She sighs. “I liked it better when I had two friends.”

“Don’t ask Fatin what she’s getting,” Dot warns, “because I’d like to keep this conversation PG-13, but I’m getting Leah and I matching sweaters that say ‘it’s lit’ with a menorah on them.” Her eyes are bright with a smile that could rival Shelby’s as she looks back and forth between the two of them. “That’s good, right?”

“She’ll love it, Dorothea,” Fatin assures her. Fixing her gaze back on Toni, she says, “Now, what are you getting _me_?”

Toni gulps, until Dot rolls her eyes again, and says, “She’s kidding. Kind of.”

Fatin lifts her burger up as if to say ‘cheers.’ “But just for the record, if Shelby _does_ say no, then I for one would love to go to the planetarium with you.”

Toni grins. “Like a date?”

Somehow, Toni makes it through another hour of window shopping, and talking about her least favorite thing in the entire world. As Dot slings an arm around her shoulder, or Fatin makes a joke that’s a bit too on the nose, but with enough love that it’s still funny, Toni has to say that for all she complains about how busy she’s been now that she talks to more than, like, three people, there’s something to say for having friends.

When they pull up outside Toni’s dorm, Fatin waves with a, “See you later.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Toni says, “What do you mean? When?”

Fatin shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll see you.” She turns to Dot. “Aren’t we doing family game night this week?”

“We always _say_ that,” Dot says, “but I don’t think we’ve ever successfully planned more than one, and that was in August.”

Sighing, Fatin nods in agreement, and turns back to Toni. “Right, well, it’ll be _somewhat_ soon," she amends. "Tell Shelby not to drown in studying, okay?”

Dutifully, Toni relays this information when she peeks back into the dorm in a considerably better mood than when she left. Staying true to her brand, though, she adds, “But if you’re asking me, I think you should study hard.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Shelby says warily, “but why is that?”

“Because you clearly need it,” Toni says, launching herself onto her bed. The springs in the cheap dorm mattress squeak dangerously. “I mean, anyone who hears ‘Michelangelo’ and their first instinct is a Ninja Turtle can’t be the sharpest tool in the box, you know?”

“You’re still on that?” Shelby says distastefully. “Very funny.”

“Martha said you asked her how to say ‘thank you’ in Native American,” Toni deadpans. 

“As a _joke_ ,” Shelby sputters.

“She also said you like the Cheesecake Factory,” Toni adds, holding up a finger. “Which, honestly, ‘thoughts on the Cheesecake Factory’ could be an IQ test in itself. Instant fail if you like it.”

“First of all, you can’t _fail_ an IQ test,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. A shit-eating grin worms its way onto her lips. “And it sounds like you’ve been asking about me a lot, huh?”

Toni flips her off.

** __ **

Two days later, it’s the most ordinary day in the world, or so Toni thinks. Nothing is different when she wakes up, nor when she goes about her day. It’s a day that’s just like any other day, except when she gets back from dinner with Martha nearing nine in the evening, her dorm room contains a completely wasted Shelby.

Like, ‘there’s a bottle of Vodka on the nightstand, and half of it is gone with no cup in sight’ drunk.

Up until this literal moment, Toni wasn't even sure Shelby knew what alcohol _was_ , so it's a surprise, to say the least. Gingerly, Toni closes the door behind her, and watches where Shelby is laying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her hand plays with the cross around her neck, and she doesn’t even acknowledge anyone has entered the room.

“Um, hey,” Toni says, immediately cringing at the way her voice cuts through the silence.

Shelby just sighs. “Hey.”

Lifting her backpack onto the hook next to Shelby’s, Toni says, “You good?” as if it’s not the dumbest thing she could say.

“It’s Becca’s birthday,” Shelby mumbles.

“Oh.” Toni hesitantly sets herself on the edge of her bed, like she’s worried it might explode or something.

“I didn’t even get to go to her funeral,” Shelby slurs, still with her gaze locked onto the ceiling.

And, God, this is much too uncomfortable of a conversation for Toni to be having sitting down, so she pushes herself to her feet. Busying herself with unlacing Shelby’s shoes, she tries to think of _anything_ remotely appropriate for the situation, but comes up short, and just responds again with, “Oh.”

“She would be eighteen,” Shelby sighs. Toni tosses her shoes over in the corner, and yeah, Shelby must really be out of it because she doesn’t even ask Toni to put them on her shoe rack or anything. “She was young for our grade. I always made fun of her because I was older.”

Reaching for a bottle of water, Toni shoves it at her. “Drink this.”

Shelby eyes it skeptically. “What is that?”

“Water,” Toni says, wiggling the bottle even more.

“Not interested,” Shelby yawns.

Toni tosses the bottle back onto her bed, and tries as best she can to lift the covers over Shelby. Slyly, she pauses to say, “You never told me what happened with Becca.”

“No,” Shelby agrees. She tilts her head sideways, and makes eye contact with Toni for the first time. “Nice try, Pumpkin.”

Toni sighs. “Well, uh, do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Shelby says. She blinks. “Maybe.”

Backing up towards her bed, Toni just says, “Okay.”

“C’mere,” Shelby mumbles. Freezing, Toni absolutely does _not_ , until Shelby gives off an extremely pitiful pout. “Like over Thanksgiving.”

“If we’re being technical, I think it was _you_ that came over to _me_ ,” Toni mutters, but she slides out of bed, and pads across the room. She hovers over Shelby for all of five seconds, and then crawls on top of the blankets before she can chicken out.

“Thanks, Cracker,” Shelby yawns.

“Cracker?” Toni says in disbelief. “Speak for yourself.”

She rolls over to face Shelby before she can put her hands around her waist or something, but decides this might be worse because now there’s mere inches between her nose and Shelby’s. The blonde has a sort of lopsided grin slid across her face, and she says something along the lines of, “Ehshkubaduh.”

“Okay,” Toni snorts. “I think it’s time to go to sleep, yeah?”

“Mm,” Shelby agrees. She blinks slowly, not even close to attempting to close her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It feels like a bad time to laugh, but Toni doesn’t really know what else to do but allow a nervous chuckle to escape. “What?”

“I’ve learned to keep distance,” Shelby is saying. Her gaze lands somewhere in between Toni’s eyebrows, as if she’s aimed for her eyes, but missed. “You know, picking fights, staying separate.” She lets out a rueful giggle. “Obviously, that didn’t work.”

“I don’t follow,” Toni says, shaking her head.

Honestly, it’s unclear whether Shelby has heard her, or whether she’s just having a conversation with herself, but she continues, “I don’t know if I’d be good at being good to someone. Or if I deserve good things myself.” Her lower lip trembles somewhat thoughtfully. “But I still want it. No matter the cost. My dad always said I’m selfish that way.”

“It’s not selfish to want to be loved,” Toni says, swallowing. “I’d say it’s a normal part of the human experience, actually.”

The expression on Shelby’s face is inscrutable, which Toni is getting used to. “I think you’d be good to — to people that you, well, me, and others.” It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but Shelby’s breath _does_ reek of vodka, so all things considered the fact that she’s even still conscious is impressive. Then her eyebrows furrow. “And I like the way you see me.”

“I only see you how you are,” Toni says honestly. She wets her lips, eyeing the way Shelby’s gaze fuzzily tracks the movement. “Maybe one day I can show you.”

It might be one of the cheesiest things Toni has ever had the misfortune of saying, so thank God Shelby is absolutely buzzed. Her smile is bright as ever when she sighs, “Thank you. Really.”

“For what?” Toni laughs. Shelby just shrugs. “Hey, what are friends for, right?”

“Friends,” Shelby says. Her tongue curls over the word like it’s foreign, and her eyes are hazy as they seem to search in Toni’s for something. She must not find it, because she breaks away, and says, “I’m gonna try again with Rachel.”

Toni blinks. “Oh.” She sucks in a breath between her teeth. “Okay. Why?”

It’s embarrassing to even be asking, but Shelby just takes it in stride. “She likes me. And she’s wrong about — well, it doesn’t matter. She likes me.” Her voice is small when she adds, “And I’m tired of being unlovable.”

“What?” Toni would lift Shelby’s chin up so their eyes meet if she were braver, but she’s not, so she lets her arms stay sandwiched between her thighs, and asks, “Who said that?”

“No one,” Shelby says. She chuckles. “Well, I guess _I_ said it.”

“You’re not…. unloveable,” Toni says, shaking her head. “Nobody is.”

“How do you know?” Shelby sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a couple seconds. Her breath is warm on Toni’s nose when she says, “And then why am I so alone?”

“You’re not,” Toni says. Her frown deepens. “You have Dot. And you have Leah, and Fatin, and Rachel. And Rachel’s sister, right? And Martha.” Her lower lip twitches. “And me.”

Maybe it’s the fact that Shelby is drunk out of her skull, or maybe it’s the fact that they’re literally face-to-face in bed, or maybe it’s the fact that they’ve found themselves in yet another nighttime heart-to-heart, but the air is buzzing, and it burns. Toni swallows, then wets her lips, then tries to think of what else to say, because clearly Shelby isn’t really in a position to be on-board with the whole “I talk, then you talk” thing that is required for a conversation.

Just as Toni has started to debate whether making a joke is appropriate for the situation, Shelby says, “Sometimes I think I want to kiss you.”

Which is a surprise, to say the least.

“Sometimes I think I’d let you,” Toni answers back softly.

Shelby’s eyes are bright as ever, twinkling with a smile and probably a lot of vodka, and her eyes flicker with something like, _What about now?_ As Toni finds herself silently mouthing back, _Please_ , she wonders if it’s maybe not so surprising after all.

Toni isn’t really sure what she expected — not that she imagined this happening or anything. There’s a half-pause as their lips brush just ever so slightly, pull away, and then dive back in as if it’s as inevitable as the tide coming home.

Shelby’s mouth is soft, and hesitant, and warmed with a smile. In another life this could be filled with the exhilaration of hiding under the covers at a childhood sleepover, or maybe even doused in moonlight as they lounge on the roof of an after-prom party.

But as much as it feels right, it feels wrong even more.  Because even though they fit together with an ease that aches in Toni’s heart, Shelby’s lips are sloppy, and all she tastes like is the sting of alcohol. When Toni peeks through one eye, she spots a tear leaking out of the corner of Shelby’s, which are firmly squeezed shut.

_It’s not for real_ , Toni forces herself to remember. Not to mention, Shelby is in no position to be doing much of anything that doesn’t involve closing her eyes, and passing the fuck out

With one last kiss, soft and chaste enough to be fitting if it’s the only one they ever have, Toni pulls back. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not,” Shelby says, but it comes out more like a statement, and it’s weak enough as it is. Toni doesn’t say anything. Shelby’s eyes are still swimming with a cloudiness Toni can’t see through, and then she says, “Okay.”

Sighing, Toni says, “I don’t want you to think — I don’t — I like you, okay?” Shelby stares at her, and Toni wonders if it’s always been this easy to confess. The half a bottle of Smirnoff Shelby has downed has probably helped, though. Taking a deep breath, she clarifies, “I mean, I don’t want you to think _I_ don’t want to do this with you, because I do. But not like this.”

“Like what?” Shelby asks, and really, Toni isn’t sure if she means it, or she’s just so lost that she’s now just parroting whatever Toni says.

“I don’t want it to be because you’re sad, or drunk, or lonely,” Toni says softly. “I don’t want to be a rebound for someone that I could never compare to. I don’t want to be competing with… well, a ghost.” Shelby looks almost ashamed, and Toni tries to backtrack quickly. “Hey, I’m just trying to say that I want you to want it the way I do. Okay?”

Blinking rapidly, Shelby’s voice has dropped into a gravelly whisper when she tries to stammer out, “But — I… okay, but I — look, I just —“

“It’s okay,” Toni says firmly. She tries for a smile when Shelby’s eyes come up to meet hers. “Really. It’s fine.”

“T —“ Shelby starts to say, but then cuts herself off. The haze returns to her gaze, and that same loose smile from before is back when she slurs through, “Mm. Okay. Goodnight, Peanut.”

Leaning in, Toni presses one last kiss to Shelby’s forehead, and whispers, “Goodnight.”

She’s not sure how long she stays there, searching Shelby’s sleeping face for an answer to a question she hasn’t even figured out yet. It could be seconds, minutes, or hours, but eventually she drifts off, and when she wakes up, Shelby is gone.

The light is crawling in through the window, and when she stretches, Toni looks down to realize she’s somehow now under the covers. She’s still in Shelby’s bed, though she herself is nowhere to be found.

Hauling herself onto her feet, Toni collapses back on her own bed, because she’s about ready to sleep for another fifty years. She’s almost out when the door opens.

Blinking, Toni barely spares a half roll-over. “Mhm,” she mumbles.

“Was that a ‘good morning’?” Shelby says, somehow bright and cheery as ever, and _not_ at all like she got blackout drunk the night before.

Toni’s eyes shoot open. _The night before. Fuck._

The fact that her heart is now beating triple time propels her into a somewhat sitting position, and she searches the room for an elephant, as well as Shelby’s face for any indication that something is wrong, but there’s nothing.

“You brought me coffee,” Toni observes.

“I always bring you coffee,” Shelby says, depositing it on her beside table. “Dot took me out for breakfast this morning. Best cure for a hangover, ya know?

Eyeing her warily, Toni reaches for the cup. “Right.”

And then the facade cracks just a little bit, and Shelby starts rubbing at her upper arm. With a hesitant smile, she says, “Hey, sorry for last night.” And then, like she’s a forty-year-old PTA mom, lets out a chuckle and says, “I know I was pretty out there.”

“Uh-huh,” Toni says, taking a sip. “No, I mean, nothing crazy.”

Shelby’s eyebrows lift, just ever-so-slightly. “Oh?” She seems to deliberate for a second, Toni isn’t sure about what, but eventually she must come to a conclusion because she laughs again, and says, “Good, because, gosh, I can’t remember a thing.”

Which, okay, great. If Shelby doesn’t remember the possible friendship-ending-moment, Toni isn’t about to be the one to break the news, especially not when their tentative friendship has only really been established for two weeks at most.

Nodding, Toni breathes a sigh of relief. “Right, well, yeah. Nothing crazy,” she repeats. “I basically just gave you some water, and then we went to bed.”

The fact that they went to bed _together_ should be another topic of conversation, but maybe Shelby forgot, because something flashes in her eyes, and then she smiles again. “Yeah, well, that’s real great then. Okay.” 

“How’s the headache?” Toni asks, heart-rate finally settling down.

“Not bad at all. I took the Ibuprofen you left,” Shelby says, turning towards her desk to slide her laptop into her backpack. She cranes her neck half-way back to hesitantly meet Toni’s eyes. “Thanks again, Chipmunk. I owe you one.”

Toni forces a smile. Echoing her words from the night before, she says, “Hey, what are friends for, right?”

Shelby smiles. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a playlist for this fic! there's no specific order to the songs, just ones that vibe. i'll be adding tracks as i go, so check it out here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3G48YVUnvJqrdzCQ2SPibm?si=Ak4ba6uXSam6RrMlzt9WSg
> 
> tumblr: quinnfebrey  
> twitter: costcopizzas


End file.
